


No Man Is An Island

by Draconicmaw



Series: Draconicmaw does the genderbending [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, And Kaiba has a fallible heart after all, F/M, Female Yami Yuugi | Atem, Genderbending, PWP but let's pretend there's a plot, Rule 63, Yami is a con-artist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2020-08-14 08:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 50,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20189260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draconicmaw/pseuds/Draconicmaw
Summary: "So enthralling, so addictive. He wondered if this was what heroin and cocaine addicts felt like; chasing the next high, itching for it until he was foaming at the mouth.More, more, more, it was not enough, never enough.He feared what he could bring himself to do to get more of her."Seto Kaiba has a weakness for beautiful, challenging women. And there’s always a price to pay for weakness, whether it be a killer hangover or an empty wallet, or an obsession with a woman who can’t be tamed. Prideshipping with Fem!Atem/Yami Yugi.





	1. No Man Is An Island

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was originally supposed to be a songfic for Ricky Martin’s “Livin’ La Vida Loca,” but it kinda evolved into its own thing. So now it just kinda exists and I honestly love it so I’m going to post it anyway.
> 
> This is basically PWP but there's a ghost of a plot lingering in there somewhere if you feel like looking for it, I guess. 
> 
> Yay ghost hunting.

The first two things Kaiba noticed when he woke up was the tingling numbness in his hands and the migraine digging its jagged talons into his brain matter. He groaned, shifted, eyes blinking open. The cracked ceiling, discolored by old leaks, glared back. The musty scent of stale sweat, sex, alcohol, and mildew threatened to overwhelm him and teased the nausea at the back of his throat.

He jolted. And the tinkling of chains. He was strung up by his wrists to the cheap metal headboard. Toy metal cuffs.

“Shit,” he hissed, tugged, and then dug his heels into the rickety mattress to push himself up against the headboard. “Yami!” he barked, then coughed weakly. It felt like someone was trying to lobotomize him.

That sneaky vixen.

“Yami, take the cuffs off!”

No reply.

“Hey!”

Dead silence.

“Son of a bitch.”

* * *

_ Three weeks earlier _

Las Vegas, Nevada, the Unites States of America. Sin City. Neon flashed endlessly at all hours. From far away, the lights glowed insidiously in the desolate desert.

Seto Kaiba hated this fucking city.

The glitz. The glam. The fucking glitter. It was nauseating. (Okay, the fountain was pretty cool, but otherwise, the entire city was aggravating.)

And the people that gathered there were even worse. The boisterous tourists, too sloshed to function like human beings anymore. The jaded locals (to whom Kaiba could actually relate). But, most of all, the pretentious populace of the top one-percent of the entire world.

He couldn't name how many times he'd had to come to Sin City for stuffy business functions. The leathery old men, fermenting in their own wealth, who came to this city of lights, as if the neon and glitter could bathe them in youth and the attention of resplendent young women (though the latter often happened, to Kaiba's considerable disgust).

But… he supposed the card games weren't half bad.

He looked to his hand, looked to the rest of the table. These old men had mastered their poker faces after years of shady business deals, but Kaiba could read them easily enough.

He raked in the chips, felt smug satisfaction at his sprawling victories, though all the winnings would be going to charitable causes -- whatever those were this evening, whatever trivialities these geezers were supporting nowadays --

\-- Whatever it was, was probably silly and Kaiba couldn’t find it in himself to care enough anymore --

And then he saw her…

She swayed up to the table like some slinking feline, shoulders and hips rocking beneath a tight, strappy red dress. Kaiba rolled his eyes as she sank into a chair at the poker table like silk drifting on a breeze.

Ah, as if some floozy could play on the same level as these cunning old birds -- let alone Seto Kaiba.

She grinned at the men, red-painted lips coyly demure (coyly because the sharpness of a knife lurked beneath that flirtatious smile). The hair on the back of Kaiba’s neck prickled.

Mocha skinned all but glowed under the gaudy casino lights as the cards were dealt. Slender, dainty hands, lovely, grasped deftly at her cards, held them fanned to her mouth, and Kaiba thought of a tittering geisha, though this woman seemed more sultry than any of those fair maidens. Thick black kohl-lined lashes shuttered over sparkling magenta eyes, bewitched all those who sat at that poker table.

\-- How did she even get here -- Kaiba didn’t recognize her -- this event was invite only --

One elegant hand swept through wild black and crimson hair that fell in untamed waves to her shapely, red-clad waist.

Kaiba scowled down at his cards. Then piercing blue eyes cut back up.

Magenta stared back.

The game commenced, and Kaiba felt his eyebrow twitch.

This woman was impossible to read.

Her lips held a perpetual sanguine tilt, relaxed and confident, and her gaze was cutting as steel. She played those foolish old men like they were but simple instruments to her talented hands. She but plucked at a few strings, and all those years of boardroom prowess crumbled to dust in the wind.

Before long, it might as well have just been Kaiba and her, this enigma, and their gazes meeting.

A smirk, and she winked.

Kaiba refused to back down.

\-- He wouldn’t be outwitted by some upstart _ broad _ \--

\-- And then he watched with a stunned expression as she dragged the chips piled in the center toward herself.

“I’m sorry, boys, but I’ll be taking these,” she lilted, the first sentence she’d said since sitting down, and her husky, almost authoritative tone stoked the blaze of fury in Kaiba’s heaving chest.

\-- who did she think she _ was _? --

_ I am Seto fucking Kaiba and I will _ not _ take this sitting down. _

Heat, furious, climbed up his cheeks, and he met her gaze again.

Another wink, a sly flutter of black lashes. And she stood, graceful, even in those killer heels.

All eyes at the table watched her go with nothing short of infatuation, and Kaiba, no different in this instant (god, how wretched), stood, gripped the edges of the table with white knuckles.

The corner of his lip twitched back and forth between a fierce scowl and a maniacal grin.

* * *

He finally found her again at the bar. A sugar-rimmed martini glass lifted to her pursed, red-painted lips. Lipstick marks stained the glass where she drank.

“That was quite the win,” Kaiba rumbled, sliding into the stool next to her, “You won’t be so lucky next time.”

Her eyes turned to him, those glittering red-violet gems, and then so did her face, all bronzed and gilded. This close, he could see just how little makeup she wore-- just that kohl and the devilish lipstick. “Hm, is that what you think?” She chuckled, purring. “Let me tell you,” she leaned a little closer, stared up at him through those damned lashes, “that that was hardly just luck on my part.”

Kaiba’s teeth gritted so hard he though his molars would snap. “Well, you certainly knew how to play the crowd.”

Another purring laugh, and she shifted, one leg crossing over the other.

The motion drew Kaiba’s eyes down, down to where the gladiator straps of her heels clung to her toned calves.

He imagined briefly lifting it up, propping that shapely leg on his shoulder.

He snarled.

She rolled a shoulder -- Kaiba watched the flesh near her collarbone shift -- that coy, dangerous smirk settling onto her lips. “Maybe I just know how to _ play _.” That word slipped from her mouth like an airborne sin taking flight. Her gaze flicked over him, and she took another sip of her drink. Left another sticky red stain for whomever had to wash the dishes at this godforsaken casino. “What’s your name, stranger?”

Kaiba scoffed. As if she didn’t know. “Seto Kaiba.” He stared at her expectantly.

It was only fair that she return the favor --

\-- though Kaiba had not cared much for _ fairness _ in prior situations.

A dark brow winged up, and she proffered a hand. “Yami.”

Kaiba felt his lip twitch. That couldn’t be her real name. “Now, that’s hardly fair,” he muttered, though he accepted her hand, and, instead of shaking her hand as she had probably intended, he lifted it up to his lips to brush a kiss to her slender knuckles. All the while, blue was locked with magenta. “Play a few more games with me.” His voice was hard, challenging.

The twist of those red lips was just as provocative. “Are you sure, Kaiba? I might leave you a much poorer man,” she warned.

“As if,” he snorted. “I’m not as gullible as those old men.”

A smirk and blazing red eyes.

* * *

Poker turned from a game of cards to a game of seduction. Her innocuous touches to her own body -- a fingertip along her collarbone, a thumb across her cheek, a nail under her jaw.

Kaiba licked his lips, imagined the sweet taste of that sugared martini on her devilish tongue.

Truly beguiling, those sparkling eyes.

He imagined peeling away the straps of that little red dress to taste her slender shoulders.

She was so small -- he dwarfed her -- but her sultry grin made him feel like he had to stretch to reach her standards.

Indeed, she ate up his chips like the other men at the table ate up her huffed breaths of false-frustration…

She fooled them with the damsel-in-distress act, but Kaiba knew better. She was a predator, a wolf in sheep's garb. Oh, how she bleated like a little lamb while her tongue swiped over a maw of sharp teeth.

Kaiba sneered at her, felt that desire coiling through him.

This woman was dangerous, if only for the way she made him burn up on the inside.

She scraped up the chips, that coy smirk morphing into something smug and full of guile. "Oops," she murmured.

All the men at the table waited expectantly.

She met Kaiba's gaze. "I've grown bored of this game." She stood.

Kaiba followed suit, as did the rest of the table. She stalked away, hips rocking, so like a feline on the prowl. Kaiba eyed the way her dress clung to her modest -- but still so tantalizing -- curves.

He trailed after her, a swarm of enthralled men hot on their heels.

She sashayed up to the roulette table. Kaiba followed close behind. Cautiously, watching her body language, he moved close to her back, framed her in against the table. She pressed back into him, and he felt her -- white-hot like a brand -- through his suit.

"Roulette is purely luck-based," Kaiba rumbled, ducked close to her ear. Her scent reminded him of lace: beautiful, delicate, _ seductive _.

She turned her head, and their noses brushed. Those magenta eyes sparkled with sultry amusement. "Well, you seem to think I have good luck. Why not try it?"

Kaiba hummed, set a hand to her hip, kept their gazes locked. "Luck can only get you so far."

She giggled, turned back to the table, but stayed just as close, pressed to his chest. "Pick a color, Kaiba," she purred.

He touched a strap on her shoulder, traced his fingertip along it. "Red."

The roulette wheel spun, but Kaiba only paid attention to the woman before him. He kept one hand on her at all times, and he could feel the envious glares from the other men at the table. That soft hair, smelling of something delicious, something that made him feel hollow with more than one type of hunger. The curve of her waist, bared in some places by the chic, artistic cut of her dress. The smooth, bowed plane of her back, arched invitingly beneath his touch. Then, briefly, the curve of her ass, when she moved _ just so _\--

Kaiba growled -- that had to be on purpose.

He squeezed, felt and _ heard _ her breath catch, and moved his hand back to her hip.

He imagined leaning her forward, pushing the hem of her dress up, letting his pants fall to his ankles.

He swallowed hard, rubbed his thumb over the material of her dress.

Yami. _ Dark _.

Oh yes, so fitting. Never had a woman tempted him so, stared back at him with that sultry gaze that demanded attention and respect and _ worship _.

He leaned close, nuzzled just under her ear. "Come to my suite with me," he murmured, lips brushing over that sensitive cartilage. "There are more… _ games _for us to play."

She turned her head again, and their lips hovered close. "You have no idea what you're getting into, Seto Kaiba."

"Maybe that's part of the thrill," he growled, mesmerized by the sensation of her gentle breaths against his upper lip.

"One more spin," she whispered, and he reveled in the dip of her breath when his finger ducked into the cut of the material on her waist.

"You've taken enough money from these poor saps," he replied, curled his finger around the hot skin of her waist.

"They can spare a few more chips." She chuckled, moved her head just so to brush their noses together again. “I’d think you didn’t care so much about this evening’s charitable cause.”

He bared his teeth a moment. “I’ve contributed enough of my own funds.” He pressed his fingertip into her flesh. “Maybe I just want to take home a prize.”

She shuddered, leaned further into him. “And you can. After one more spin.”

“Tease,” he hissed as she turned forward again. “Bet on all red again.”

“Planned on it.”

* * *

She stalked forward, trailed her fingers along the off-white, ornate walls. Kaiba hung back, watched those red-clad hips sway, the tensing and bunching of those slender, bronzed legs. He licked his lips. At every door, spaced far apart, she looked over her shoulder, eyes twinkling red and a dark eyebrow arched.

He’d shake his head.

Not that door.

Not that door.

Not _ that _door.

She smirked at him, traced a slender finger around the final knob.

His lips curled in response. He drew the keycard from his pocket. Strode closer. Looked into those magenta eyes, dark and gleaming, and unlocked the door. He swung it open, held it there with one long arm. She sauntered over the threshold, gaze wry, red-painted lips twisted into a sensual smile.

He followed close behind, close enough to taste her on his tongue.

The door shut.

He stood by the entryway table, a crested, hand-carved thing of wood, toed off his shoes. She hovered close, warm and fragrant. Their eyes stayed locked, an intense battle, a game more riveting than all the ones they had spent the night playing.

Her hip cocked, strained against red, one leg lifted, bent at her elegant brown knee, and her heeled foot rested on the edge of that expensive table, right next to his hip. She leaned forward, down, face hovering above his stomach, and she reached, began undoing the numerous little clasps on her shoes with a single deft hand.

Kaiba swallowed hard. “Do you need help with those?”

A slow blink, an even slower smile --

\-- viscous like honey --

“Mm, if you wouldn’t mind…”

He brushed her fingers away, watched as she straightened, her fingers curling into his shirt, her shapely leg caging him in against the small table. Trapping him in her scent, in the heat of her feminine body.

\-- dear god, all other women paled in comparison to the creature before him --

One-by-one, he undid all the clasps, traced his finger along her smooth, firm flesh between each gleaming buckle. His other hand grasped at her inner thigh, bared by the hiked hem of her dress, braced it as he pulled the web-like shoe from her foot, slender and lovely like the rest of her wondrous, tempting form.

He dropped the shoe on the floor. It landed in a mess of crimson leather straps and shiny buckles.

He withdrew his hand from her thigh, his fingertips skimming up toward her knee, before she switched legs and clung to him for balance. He peeled that shoe off from her with as much relish as the last, and, before long, he was standing there with her thigh in his palm and her bare leg bracketing him.

Kaiba snapped.

He gripped her hard, and she gasped as he yanked her against his body, lifted and spun her, set her atop that table, though sturdy, that creaked beneath the attention.

The vase on its surface went careening to the floor.

Her legs hooked around his hips, her hands scrambling to brace behind her. He gripped a fistful of her hair, close to the scalp, not enough to hurt her, but enough to demonstrate clearly his _ hunger, his desire _. His nose brushed against hers, and he snarled his heaving breaths.

She moaned, melting yet tensing against him, arched into his body. Her hands moved up to claw through his hair, to ruffle and dishevel those perfectly-styled strands. “Kiss me, Kaiba,” she groaned, throaty, and the very sound rattled Kaiba to his core.

He could only obey.

Yes, her tongue and lips tasted of sugar and sin, lust unleashed, the unfettered _ id _. Her kisses were utterly bewitching, and he lost himself in their murky depths. One hand clenched in her hair, the other pressed against her knee, spread her wider for him to surge up against her, their bodies sharp against one another. Talon-like, her fingers grasped hard at his shirt.

A firm yank.

Buttons rained down.

This shirt was worth more than some people’s yearly salaries, but Kaiba couldn’t care any less --

\-- not when Yami’s bare hands were clawing over the flesh of his torso.

Vertigo, he was swaying on his feet, he was sure, when he pulled away from those delectable lips to kiss and bite down her slender, lovely throat. Her nails caught against the skin of his lower back with enough friction to make his eyes water, but it only spurred him on.

She moaned his name, bucked against him, and her long-fingered hands clenched on his ass when he sank his teeth into the bronzed shoulder that had been teasing him all night.

“Again,” he growled. “Say it again.” They surged against one another, rocking and grinding and making that poor table cry and creak in protest.

“_ K-Kaiba _…” she mewled, thighs jumping.

“Like that,” he croaked, hand sliding up her outer thigh, the material of her dress pooling around his wrist as he lifted it up, up, up, away, and Yami was somehow magically disentangled from the innumerable straps that had clung to her body like cobwebs.

Her bare chest heaved with her panting breaths, and he deliriously eyed the tiny scrap of red lace clinging weakly to her hips. His legs trembled, and he fell to his knees right then and there. Her hand tangled in his hair, brought his face close again, up to her breasts. He kissed and licked and suckled on her flesh, his hands gripping ravenously at her hot, twitching thighs.

He was moaning and panting and saying things even _ he _couldn't comprehend at the time; he couldn't think, just couldn't when he had this delectable woman writhing in his arms and crying his name so sweetly. He kissed down, down, hot, wet, open mouth kisses, as if he could devour her whole right then and there. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her meager panties and clawed them down, along her silky legs until they dropped to the polished wood floor.

Her hips bucked with anticipation, made that table give weak little squeaks, and he pinned her knees down, spread her wider.

"I've wanted this all night," he growled, and then his tongue was on her.

She gasped, nails clawing at his scalp and spurring him on.

And he knew he was already addicted to her.

He couldn't let this woman go.

* * *

He'd never seen someone so comfortable in the nude.

Yami, naked as the day she was born, perused the wet bar with thoughtfully pursed lips. It seemed, this way, bare and free, she moved with more grace than ever. Reclined on the couch in a bathrobe, Kaiba watched those slender brown legs strut, her hips rock beneath her flesh, her pert bottom tense and flex with each step.

He licked his lips, his hunger stirring.

What a dangerous woman.

She had to strain up onto her toes to reach a bottle, and Kaiba watched her back arch artfully. Her hair, so long and dark and disheveled from sex, moved, bared her neck, where a few red marks lingered on her skin.

Kaiba purred, and he knew that he had just as many, if not more, marks dotting his body.

Scratches. Bruises from teeth. Hickeys from insatiable lips.

He ached everywhere and it was wonderful.

"Do you want whiskey?" She asked, looking at him over her shoulder.

"I wouldn't mind some," he replied.

She elegantly poured a single glass. She swaggered her way up to the sofa, and Kaiba raised a brow. One leg after the other, she climbed on, straddling him in all her unadulterated glory.

“One glass?” he rumbled, and he tried desperately to hide the way his breath stuttered as her breasts pushed against his chest. A purring chuckle, and her slender fingertips brushed his chin. The cold, hard edge of the glass touched his parting lips, and the amber liquid trickled into his mouth at the tilt of her hand. She overestimated -- or perhaps she estimated perfectly -- and some of the whiskey twined from the corner of his lips and down his chin. She drew the glass away, leaned close, smelling of skin and sex and everything that made Kaiba’s gut clench, and dragged her tongue up to lap the mess away.

“Mm,” she hummed, her tongue tracing the corner of his lip.

He swallowed thickly, and the alcohol burned all the way down. “You don’t need to try so hard to seduce me again,” he all but croaked.

“Maybe I like it when you’re all riled up, Kaiba,” she whispered, and she mouthed sensually at his earlobe and jaw.

“Yeah, you did seem to enjoy it earlier,” he growled, hands finally reaching up to grip at her hips, and the heat of her body threatened to consume him as he ground her down on him.

“You’re a formidable opponent,” she moaned, rubbing his shoulder over the robe with one hand, the other trying desperately to keep the glass from spilling, “but an even more formidable lover.”

He grunted, low in his throat, as her hips canted against his. With a trembling hand sliding down his chest from his neck, Yami parted the white robe, bared the eager flesh beneath.

“Sh-Share a drink with me, _ K-Kai_ba,” she mewled when their bare skin was pulled flush to one another. “To celebrate my victory.”

His hands grasped at her thighs, spread her wider, and then he was piercing her with a single thrust. “Gladly,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

The whiskey ended up all over the expensive designer sofa and the polished hardwood floor, but Kaiba could hardly bring himself to care as he usually might.

He had more important matters to attend to.

* * *

Water thundered down from the three elegant showerheads. But the sound was all but drowned out by the unrestrained moans, the wicked growls, the pounding of the sliding glass door slamming against its frame. Kaiba easily held both of their weight, though he supposed the glass he had Yami pressed up against did its part. He was pinning her quite hard; he needed to keep her from bouncing and chafing her back, after all.

Her legs squeezed around him, like a snake -- slender and sinuous -- constricting. Despite his best efforts, she still surged up with each thrust, though she didn’t seem to mind, with the way her head was thrown back and her painted nails retraced the scratches scoring Kaiba’s flexing back. He could tell -- the way her every breath caught in her throat, the way her thighs jumped around his frenzied hips -- that she was close, so close to that sweet, tantalizing edge.

He grunted, growled, clutched covetously at her dancing pelvis, yanked her down onto him with each punishing shove. He could feel sweat slicking him just as quickly as it was washing down the drain.

\-- she was enthralling -- her lips were so swollen -- it made him want to kiss her more, kiss her until she was _ blue _ \--

And then she was bucking wildly, one of her hands whipping up to scrabble at the frame of the glass door above her, and his name became one with the water thundering down around them.

He teethed fiercely at her jaw, his breath whining roughly out. And then, with a bestial groan from deep within his gut, he was fluttering against her, overflowing and dying and reborn anew in sin.

He thrusted weakly, milked the last of that ecstasy before he was slumping against her in drained euphoria.

\-- “Drained” was the best word for it; this woman was a succubus, sucking the energy out of him, but he couldn’t help coming back for more.

Her hands carded through his soaked hair, and he set his forehead on her shoulder. Each of her breaths was an airy whimper. His knees trembled, not from the weight but from the sheer _ force _ of his orgasm.

“F-Fuck…” she mewled, quivering in his arms, her shaking hands tracing the lines of muscle on his back.

“Give me an hour…” he replied wryly, or, rather, as wryly as he could with his voice absolutely _ wrecked _.

She chuckled. “I’ll be feeling that for a week,” she murmured, but she sounded _ pleased_.

Where would she even be in a week?

“Come with me,” he croaked.

“Hm?”

“To Seattle. I leave tomorrow night. Come with me.”

A purring chuckle. “What, so I can be your personal bed-warmer?”

Kaiba snorted, mouthed her shoulder. She tasted like water and fresh sweat. “Don’t be silly. We haven’t touched the bed once.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

The table in the entryway, the counter in the kitchen, the couch (twice), and now the shower…

Never once the bed.

“How long will this visit to Seattle last?” she asked, and she moved to drop her legs from around his waist, but he latched on and held her in place.

“Four days. Why? Somewhere to be?” He kissed up her neck, his lips languid and gentle.

She tilted her head, bared her neck for him. She huffed out a breath. “Not exactly…” He nipped under her jaw, and she gasped lightly. “Be careful, Kaiba. Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

His hands rubbed up her sides with sensual intent. “Just because one of my appendages is out of play doesn’t mean the others are.” He dragged her earlobe between his teeth. “What do you say? Or are you not up for it?” he asked, challenging, even as he cupped her breast and thumbed her nipple.

“That’s not what I said,” she murmured, almost whimpered. “I don’t think _ you _ can handle _ me _ for that long,” and then one of his hands dropped between her thighs, right where they were still melded. He drew a teasing finger along her, and she shuddered in his arms.

Kaiba’s chuckle sounded like a growl. “I seem to be handling you perfectly fine.” She mewled, eyebrows furrowing, mouth dropping open, swollen lips parted.

\-- Kaiba suddenly wondered just when he finally kissed the last traces of red from her lips --

“Come with me,” he whispered against her cheek.

“As if I would s-say no,” she breathed.

* * *

Yami seemed at home in his private jet, her slender legs sprawled over the armrest and onto Kaiba’s lap. He kept a hand on her, stroked her hot, toned calf. Her toes curled happily into his pants. At this angle, with how her legs were positioned, Kaiba could see right up her tight skirt.

And based on the mischievous sparkle in her magenta eyes, she was perfectly aware of this fact.

The arch of her bare, slender foot rubbed over the front of his slacks. “Kaiba, I have a question for you.”

He stroked up to under her knee, traced his thumb over the sensitive skin there. “Ask away.”

A sharp, wolfish grin. She once again shucked away the wool to bare the predator underneath. “Do you happen to be a member of the mile-high club?”

Something hot and hungry clawed inside his chest. “Is that an invitation?” His hand slid down, along the back of her thigh. That hot, smooth skin teased his senses and whetted his appetite.

She parted her knees just so, her arms laying above her head.

\-- she was so damn lovely; he loved debauching her --

“Hm, I didn’t say that,” Yami replied, purring.

“You didn’t,” Kaiba conceded. His hand pushed under the hem of her skirt. “But it was implied.” She canted her hips up, off the cushion, made just enough space for his hand to wriggle under her and _ squeeze_. “But the answer is no.” He kneaded her flesh, pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her shapely knee -- because it seemed like every part of her appealed to his senses, even something as inane as her knee. “I don’t typically have other people on my jet with me.”

Red bloomed on her cheeks like resplendent roses -- a blush of pure, shameless arousal. “Oh?”

“And, even when I do,” He set his teeth to her shin, traced a finger along the inside of her thigh, “I certainly don’t bed them.” _ Finally_, he touched her where she was warmest, flicked along her flesh with teasing touches. “I suppose I’m willing to make an exception just this once.”

Her breath was fast, her hands rubbing restlessly at the leather armrest above her head. “You don’t have to go changing your rules just because of me, Kaiba.”

He plunged a finger into her, and she arched, spine tight, her teeth sinking into her red-painted lower lip. “Nonsense,” he growled, aching with desire. “You’ve wanted this all along.”

“I concede,” she whimpered, hips churning into his touch.

“Finally, I win,” he growled, turning, parting her knees and kneeling between them.

A little mewl wrung its way out of her throat. “Y-Yes… T-Take your prize, Kaiba.”

He hunkered low, hovered over her. “I plan to.”

* * *

The clinking of glasses, soft orchestral music, warm yellow light. This was nothing like the casino, and yet, all the same. Stuffy, fake laughs. Conniving smiles. Ingratiating dialogue.

Seto Kaiba fucking hated it.

But with Yami on his arm, it was a little more bearable.

She leaned close, red-painted lips skimming just under Kaiba’s ear. “That man over there looks as though he has been constipated for half his life.”

Kaiba snorted, and his lips twitched as he tried to hide his laughter, his fingers twitching where they were resting on the small of her back. “That’s probably true.”

Yami sidled close to his side, one of her hands fiddling with his blue tie. “I’m bored,” she whispered, still stretched up, her nose sliding along his neck. “And the alcohol is watered down.”

Kaiba hugged her close, looked down at her, let their noses brush together. “This place would turn into a three-ring circus if they didn’t water the drinks down.”

Yami pouted, petted his tie.

Frustration bubbled up in Kaiba’s chest like hot tar. God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to just devour her right where they stood. “You’re being a distraction. I should be socializing,” he murmured, and his hand dropped briefly, discreetly, to fondle her bottom, before it was settling back onto her waist.

“As if you’re any good at _ socializing_,” Yami taunted, traced a colored fingernail along his suit buttons.

He chuckled. “Perhaps not, but I’m good at pretending,” he murmured.

Those magenta eyes sparkled with humor and mischief. “Mm-hm, I’m sure.” She tilted her head again, ran her nose along the line of his neck. “But _ I _ can read you like an open book, Seto Kaiba.” She grinned, red lips parting wetly, white teeth brushing his jaw as she spoke. “I know what you want.”

He shuddered. “And what is that?”

“You want to rip this dress right off my body, don’t you?” she whispered, sibilant, seductive. “After all, you bought it yourself. And you can just buy me a new one.” She breathed hotly. “Maybe you’d bend me over one of the tables, or maybe you’d take me up against a wall.” She tugged on his tie. “That seems to be a personal favorite of yours.”

He gripped at her waist with one hand, tipped his head down to brush a restrained kiss against her smirking lips. “Maybe you should behave.”

“I am on my _ best _ behavior, Kaiba,” she replied and mouthed at his lips a moment before she pulled away, cheek on his shoulder. Her eyes glittered like rubies.

His eyes narrowed. Damn, bending her over a table sounded like a _ great _ idea.

“Ah, Seto Kaiba!” a booming voice declared, and Kaiba glanced over.

An older man, balding, suit bulging with rolls of flesh. Kaiba couldn’t remember his name; he was some generic American businessman, but Kaiba wasn’t all that surprised that the man remembered him.

So Kaiba just inclined his head in greeting.

“Oh, Kaiba, my boy, how have you been?”

_ Fucking great. Emphasis on the ‘fucking.’ _ He thought with a startling moment of immaturity.

“Well enough, I suppose,” he replied.

“‘Well enough’?!” the man asked incredulously. “What a response when you have such a vision perched on your arm!” His cunning eyes gleamed. “Please, introduce us.”

Kaiba glanced back down to Yami. She gazed boldly, unflinchingly at the man before them.

Of course she wouldn’t be intimidated, nor was she awed by this man’s supposed wealth.

“Ah, yes, this is my companion, Yami,” Kaiba began, “Yami, this is --”

And, thankfully enough, the man rushed to introduce himself. “Richard Afton, President and CEO of Afton Enterprises.”

Yami fluttered those devilish lashes, extended a lovely bronzed hand. “Greetings, Mr. Afton.”

Richard didn’t bother shaking it. He brought it to his lips to brush a kiss on her knuckles. “Oh, darling, just call me Richard.” Yami firmly but elegantly withdrew her hand from his hold. But his eyes stayed affixed to the drop-dead bombshell before him. “Tell me, Kaiba, where did you find such an exquisite creature?”

Yami turned herself back into Kaiba’s side, and she playfully tugged on his tie again. “Las Vegas.”

Those lecherous eyes shamelessly scanned her toned legs. “Sin City. How apropos.”

Acid bubbled in the back of Kaiba’s throat. What a disgusting pig of a man.

\-- though Kaiba himself often looked at that woman the same way, but she bloomed under Kaiba's gaze like a lascivious flower --

“Hm,” Yami hummed in agreement, and she smoothed Kaiba’s tie and lapels with sensual passes of her hands. “Indeed. I’ve taken it as my personal task to…” a sly wink “... loosen him up a little.”

Kaiba couldn’t help but smirk down at her. “Have you now?”

She nodded in an innocent manner, though those glittering rubies for eyes burned with carnal intent. “Yes. You’re so… tense.” Her hand stroked one long pass down his suit jacket, to his stomach.

Kaiba sneered at her, salacious, and the clearing of a throat made him start. Beady eyes stared at them, wide and lecherous.

“Uh,” a hot gulp and sweaty flush. “How… charming.”

Yami smirked up at Kaiba. That red lipstick was no match for the lurid color of her eyes.

“I’m thirsty. Would you like another drink?” She asked, trailed a finger along his jacket buttons.

“Whatever you’re having is suitable,” Kaiba replied.

“Watered-down champagne it is,” she purred. “I’ll be right back. Don’t miss me too much, Kaiba.” And then she was sashaying away.

He eyed her, every aspect, even the tendons on her ankles and heels. How a single woman could hold so much sex appeal, even down to her most innocuous of parts, baffled a certain Seto Kaiba.

“How much?” Afton asked, nudging the younger man with an obtuse elbow.

Kaiba stared down at him. “What?”

Afton’s eyes never left her retreating form. “How much do you have to… invest to get a woman like that on your arm?”

The meaning of those words struck Kaiba like a freight train. “Excuse me? I find your blatant insinuations to be extraordinarily insulting.”

Yami… a prostitute? (Or “escort,” as these stuffy old men liked to call them.)

Afton chuckled nervously. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’ve all done it.”

Kaiba snarled. “Have we? I certainly haven’t. Unlike a pig like you, I don’t need to fling money and power at a woman to get her to share a bed with me,” he hissed. (Though little bed-sharing actually occurred, in comparison to… other locations.)

Afton gasped scandalously.

Kaiba’s nose curled, and he shook his head derisively. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Thin lips parted for response, but then Yami was swaggering her way up to Kaiba’s side again. He smirked down at her. “Two glasses this time?”

She pouted, red lips pursed, and swirled one of the drinks. “Yes. The alcohol content simply isn’t conducive for drink-sharing.”

Kaiba laughed, slipped a hand around her waist, and drew her closer. His other hand accepted the proffered champagne. “Careful. Other… activities later this night require you to be perfectly coherent and… consenting.”

“Oh, Kaiba,” she said with a simpering grin, “I wouldn’t miss your games for the world. You’re such an _ exquisite _ opponent.” She lifted her glass to sinful lips. “Though it seems you are never able to win against me.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he replied, nearly hissing with desire. “I doubt either of us are losers with our little bouts.” His hand tightened on her waist with carnal intent. “In fact, we both seem to win quite spectacularly.”

She leaned closer. Her eyes glittered, and her voice lowered to a private whisper. “Are we seriously using the term ‘win’ as a euphemism for an orgasm?”

Kaiba’s smirk turned into a grin of genuine humor. “Touchdown.”

Her head kicked back, and she laughed, boisterous, loud, none of that flirtatious tittering. Kaiba blinked down at her, smiled with awe and delight and humor.

Whether Richard Afton still stood at their side or not was unknown, and they didn’t care for the answer, either.

“A ‘touchdown’ doesn’t exactly equate to ‘winning,’” Yami reasoned, stifling giggles with champagne.

“Maybe not until you get enough of them,” he replied, took a sip of his own drink, and cringed. Cheap, watered-down swill, for sure.

“Oh? Can you supply enough of them?” She winked, settling back into the suave seduction that drove Kaiba wild with need. “Touchdowns, I mean?”

He bared his teeth in a half-grin, half-snarl. “I think I’ve more than demonstrated by ability to not only deliver quantity, but _ quality_.” He tugged her harshly against him and dropped his free hand to her delicious ass. “Haven’t I?”

That smirk fell from her breathless lips, parted and red and almost trembling. Those dilating pupils stared at Kaiba’s salacious expression. “You… You most certainly have.”

A tight fondle. “Do I need to again?”

The corner of her lip twitched, her breath caught, and she hid it with the rim of her champagne flute. “I suppose another demonstration would benefit me. For record-keeping purposes, you see.”

“Oh, I see, all right.”

* * *

That demonstration came sooner than was entirely appropriate.

It was admittedly Kaiba’s first time having sex in a place where privacy wasn’t necessarily gauranteed, but with how Yami stoked his ever-growing desire, he hardly had the patience to wait for the drive back to the hotel before he partook in her flesh once again.

Yami spasmed, clawed at the shelf above her, and the various cleaning supplies shuddered in their resting places. Her legs clenched, squeezed the sides of his head where he was half-tucked under her skirt. The weight of her on his shoulders, in his hands, went hardly noticed; Kaiba was far too preoccupied.

As with all things, Kaiba had a steep learning curve when it came to Yami’s fair body and the ways to make her sing with pleasure. He’d barely had her positioned before she was shuddering apart under his tongue.

Her gasping breaths echoed in the cramped space, and Kaiba slowly set her back to her feet. He drew back and licked his lips all the while. She gripped hard at the shelves, her knuckles white, her thighs trembling visibly, face red and lips parted and skirt upturned. He smirked at her, stood, moved to adjust her skirt back into place.

Her hot fingers wrapped around his wrist. “No,” she said, firm yet quivering. She wrapped a leg around him, drew him against her, and those tremulous fingers worked his fly open.

“Here?” he murmured, aroused and incredulous all the same, while she crawled up him and aligned their bodies.

“Yes, here,” she growled back.

Kaiba’s response was lost in a moan, his hips bucking into her to finish that hot initial slide. They didn’t have much fancy for words after that, not when every hot, tight, frantic thrust made Yami bite into his jacket shoulder to keep her mewls of overstimulation to herself. Her thighs jumped wildly in time to Kaiba’s bestial humping. Painted nails scrambled at the material of his suit, even as the loosened waistband of his pants stooped lower along his pumping hips.

He worked her hard, fast into another orgasm and followed close behind.

He dimly noted the creaking of the shelves they were fucking against.

The smallest bit of embarrassment flitted through his veins, but he knew he would give this woman what she wanted, whenever she wanted --

Wherever she wanted it.

* * *

The narrow road coiled up higher into the mountainside. Dense, verdant forests dripped with residual summer rain. Rain, rain, rain. In Washington state, it was always raining.

That evening, it was no exception.

Yami was looking out the window, her face all but pressed into the glass. Kaiba spared her a glance before he focused back onto the winding road. The ghost of a smile lingered on his lips.

“It’s so… _ green_,” she breathed, and her words fogged up the glass of Kaiba’s expensive car. “You have a cabin out here? How wonderful.”

“Hn.”

_ Cabin _ was a bit of an understatement.

“I have plenty of meetings and conventions in Seattle, so I figured I would dish out the cash to buy a scenic little getaway home out here.”

“Miles from civilization…” she said, and slowly turned her head to stare at him. “Do you plan on murdering me out here, Mr. Kaiba?” she said, voice thick with amusement.

He chuckled. “No, but if I decide to, no one will ever find the body way out here.”

She scoffed, set a slender hand on his thigh. “You wouldn’t.” She caressed his leg. “I’m more valuable to you alive.”

“You think so?” He cut her a sly glance, and nearly froze at the sight of those jewel-like eyes alight with lust.

“Yes,” she all but hissed. “Who else would you fuck against every available surface in your ritzy vacation home?”

No one, he almost said, almost brought up how only he and his younger brother ever came to the cabin in the mountains.

But with the way her nails were curling seductively into the meat of his inner thigh, he could tell that she knew. She hummed, sensual, reminiscent of the sounds she made when he was claiming her body for his own. "Though, the seclusion will be nice." She rubbed her hand on his thigh, slow, deep. "No interruptions, no _ inhibitions_…"

"As if anything has stopped you from initiating before," Kaiba grumbled, and he hid his breathlessness rather well.

"It's not my fault that you keep _ rewarding _my behavior," she simpered, and dragged her nails audibly on the fabric of his pants. He shivered.

"Are you telling me I should _ punish _ you next time?" He growled.

She squirmed, "_Oh_, I think I like that idea far too much for it to be effective." A whisper of a moan haunted her voice. "But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give it a try."

"Maybe I'll bind you up and use you like a toy," he snapped, bristling with sexual tension. This woman could rile him up like no other.

She gripped him hard, and the pain of her nails digging into his thigh was utterly delicious. "Now _ there's _ an idea." Her voice dripped with arousal, just as they finally ended up in the driveway.

Kaiba threw the car into park and slammed the ignition off.

She didn't get the chance to admire the cabin before they were pouncing on each other, still in the car, in the tranquil driveway of a spacious cabin in the mountains.

* * *

Yami's assumption rang true; no space in that vacation home went unused by them. Except for Mokuba's suite, but that was a line Kaiba simply wasn't willing to cross, not that Yami ever brought it up as an option.

But every other space became a setting for one of their passionate, frenzied trysts. (He must say, she looked simply exceptional sprawled out on one of the fur rugs.)

Kaiba wondered, when his brain wasn't addled by arousal, if this was what it would have felt like to be the average teenager. It seemed all conversations escalated into some form of sex. When he didn't have the energy to join her, he would always find alternative means to bring her to the heights of pleasure. It was just so _ easy_, easy to touch her, even when he could barely keep his eyes open. Giving her pleasure was so unlike anything else he had ever experienced. So enthralling, so _ addictive_. He wondered if this was what heroin and cocaine addicts felt like; chasing the next high, itching for it until he was foaming at the mouth.

More, more, _ more_, it was not enough, _ never _enough.

He feared what he could bring himself to do to get _ more _ of her.

That thought bounced about in his brain, ricocheted off the walls of his skull with concussive force as she stepped -- all wrapped up in one of his fluffy robes -- up to the sliding glass doors to the expansive patio. The sky out there was dark, overcast with the ubiquitous rainclouds, and yet still the raindrops fell in a litany of sound and gray.

His eyes met with that of her reflection, only briefly, before he watched in the glass as her slender hands dropped to the tie on the robe.

Then, his eyes moved to her shoulders, where the material was starting to sink and droop and bare bronzed flesh marked all over with hickies and bite marks. Slowly, fluffy white creeped down her back, revealed that artful curve to her spine, slid down her arms, caught on her wrists until, with an elegant flick, it pooled at her bare feet.

His lips parted, his mouth dry, his heart racing. Already, he ached for her. Was she a master of seduction? Or was this Seto Kaiba simply weak to her charms?

It didn’t matter, he decided, when she languidly stretched her arms above her head, and her slim, soft body flexed so damn beautifully.

He realized with a start that he was gradually leaning forward, all but drooling all over himself as she teased and tantalized and titillated him.

And then, to his surprise and confusion, she slid the glass door open and stepped out into that light, drizzling rain. Ruby eyes smirked over a shapely shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he called, standing -- despite all the wonderful aches wracking his body -- and ventured closer.

She swept her hair back, stood proudly as the rain wetted her body. “Enjoying nature, Kaiba. You should try it sometime.” She outstretched her delicate hand to him. “Come, join me.”

Before he knew it, he was feeling the rain drop onto his bare shoulders and back. It was cool but not unbearable, for now, but her skin felt so hot as she pressed up against him.

“We have the rain to thank for everything,” she murmured, her wet lips just barely brushing his collarbone as she spoke.

“You’re a strange woman,” he replied, his hands slipping up her slick sides.

She hummed, and her nose traced a faint line up his neck to his ear. “Dance with me, Kaiba.”

He swallowed thickly and watched, mesmerized, as water beaded up on her thick black lashes and as her blonde bangs clung wetly to her enchanting face. “I don’t dance. And there’s no music.”

She cooed, her thumbs rubbing sensitive circles on his shoulders. “Don’t be that way,” she whispered. “There _ is _ music. The rain, the birds, the wind. You never hear the same tune twice. So we should dance while this one is still fresh in our ears.” She moved against him. Beneath his hands, her body gently stirred to some beat, unheard perhaps by him alone. “Dance with me,” she breathed against his neck.

Lips parted, he slid one hand up, along her spine, slicked with rain, under her clinging wet hair, to cup the back of her neck. He drew her tighter against him, and her delicate arms twined around his neck. Her hot breaths washed onto his cool lips, puffed gently as he began to sway against her, with her, in tempo to her lilting hips.

She sighed, content, delighted, and the sound alone held so many words she needn’t speak.

With a tender grip, he tilted her head to one side, pressed his cheek to her throat, and tasted her from the corner of his lips, her flavor that of flesh and rain. Her hands moved, slithering down his chest and stroking away the cool water beading and climbing and cascading down his body.

“Kaiba…” she whispered, twisting to meet his lips.

The heat in him was liquid, filling up every corner and making a perfect mould of his insides. He wondered if the water would evaporate straight from their skin.

One hand threaded tighter into her soaked hair, the other gripping lower, lower, until it was slipping over her bottom and to the back of her thigh.

The rain had numbed and soothed the aches in his body, until they were barely noticeable when he lifted her up. Her legs coiled around him. And they somehow moved until she was half-pressed, half-perched on the railing of the porch.

He mouthed down her proffered throat, swayed against her body still. Her nails curled into his hips and tugged him insistently.

“_Yes_,” she mewled when he was no longer moving against her body but _ into _ it.

His breath punched from his lungs, but he moved his lips close to hers. He tasted her moans, where they mixed with his own choked, hitched breaths. She turned her head just so, nuzzled the side of his face and gasped against his cheek.

When Kaiba threw his head back, all he could taste was the rain.

* * *

The thick, soft blanket kept the warmth of their bare bodies sealed tight against their flesh. Yami sleepily nuzzled his chest, and he felt her lips pucker softly, felt her hand dazedly petting his sternum. He blinked up at the ceiling. His eyelids were heavy, and he struggled to keep them open, until he just allowed them to fall closed.

“Come with me,” he murmured, his lips barely moving.

“Hm?” she hummed. She rubbed her cheek on him.

“To New York,” he said on a tired breath.

“Mm. ‘Kay.”

* * *

This was the most formal dinner yet, and Kaiba couldn't stop running his palm along the waist of Yami's ball gown. Long, red, shimmering, a perfectly-fitted gift from him to her. She looked simply stunning, a queen amongst peasants. He stroked her exposed back reverently as she laughed at one of his snide comments.

They'd developed a new game over the course of the last two and a half weeks; who could get the other to laugh the most.

She replied, one delicate hand shielding her quivering red lips from view.

And Kaiba simply couldn't hold back his own mirth at her response.

"We've already established that you are, in fact, a dancing man," she began, and Kaiba rolled his eyes, though still he smiled, "so why haven't you asked me for a dance yet, Seto Kaiba?"

“I do have appearances to keep,” Seto Kaiba reminded. “Can’t have all of these frothing, gold-digging bitches panting after me when they realize that, yes, I can dance, and, yes, I will dance with a woman.”

Yami laughed, and his cheeks began to ache at the sound. Once she composed herself, she tugged at his bowtie with playful fingers. “Well, _ this _frothing, gold-digging bitch wants to dance with you, Kaiba.” She smirked, wolfish, up at him. “Consider it foreplay.”

_ What the fuck are you talking about? Everything with us is foreplay_, he almost said, but thought better of it. “Ah, see, you’re just going to exacerbate the problem. Now _ all _of the frothing, gold-digging bitches will think that dancing with me will also lead to sex.”

“Maybe I should tell the other frothing, gold-digging bitches that you _ only _ dance naked in the rain. Because that seems to be the only time I can get you to do it,” she taunted, ruby eyes alight with humor.

“We barely danced. It quickly escalated to sex. So, it doesn’t count,” Kaiba argued.

“Oh?” She leaned close. “We still maintained the rhythm pretty well.”

“_Very _well,” Kaiba growled.

She pouted at him. “I’m starting to think you don’t want to dance because you’re bad at it. Seto Kaiba, do you have two left feet?”

He bristled. “No. I am an exceptional, professionally-trained ballroom dancer.”

Yami’s eyebrows arched. “I’m sure.” She sounded anything but.

“It’s the truth!”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Goddamnit. We’re going to fucking dance and I will have you choking on your words, Yami,” he groused, tugging her out onto the dance floor.

“I’d rather be choking on something else, if you know what I mean,” she replied, dark eyebrows waggling.

For the first time in a long time, Seto Kaiba blushed a very bright red, almost bright enough to rival Yami’s brilliant dress.

A beautiful, noble woman saying such vulgar things where anyone could hear them -- he yanked her close, one hand at her waist, the other holding her delicate hand in his. His voice was a low, hoarse growl, “Either way, you’ll be choking on _ something _ before the night is through.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she purred, melting and moulding to his touches like hot wax. He guided her with practiced expertise, though she followed with just as much acumen. And swirling there on the dance floor, it seemed as though his mind was akilter, too.

She was so beautiful, so sly, a red fox flitting through the brambles, uncatchable and untameable.

And maybe she was all of these things, even as they laughed together so delightedly. Maybe she was a wild, free creature, and that was what was so tantalizing about her…

… But still Seto Kaiba could only hope that she would want to hold onto him as much as he did her. 

* * *

The drinks in New York were much stronger than the ones in Seattle. That would explain how she managed to convince him to go back out on the town after returning to the hotel, how she was the only one who managed to get changed while he went clambering after her still decked in his tuxedo.

Truth be told, looking back on the night, he wouldn’t remember much about what happened. Only brief flashes of color and sound. Pounding music of some lively club and its multi-hued strobe lights. How her eyes seemed to burn like flames under the blacklights. Stumbling down some half-lit street. Giggling and tripping over one another checking into some ratty motel on some dank street corner.

“_Kaiba_,” she had gasped when he pinned her to the door before they’d even gotten into the room.

“Seto, call me Seto,” and those words bounced around in his head long after he had sobered up and his hangover had faded.

There was only one other person in the entire world allowed to call him Seto.

Collapsing on the bed, and somehow and from somewhere, she’d pulled out handcuffs and demanded she be allowed to chain him to the rickety headboard.

But after that, it was all blank.

Back in his _ actual _ hotel suite, Kaiba held his throbbing head in his hands.

Yami was gone. Along with over a hundred thousand dollars, not including all of the material goods Kaiba had bought her along the way. How she managed to weasel her way into his accounts, he wasn’t sure. And, in the long run, he guessed he didn’t care; a hundred thousand dollars was chump-change to Seto Kaiba.

But a part of him was furious.

_She left him_. Without a word. Chained up to a bed in some godforsaken rundown motel in the middle of New York City. (And dimly he knew he should be fucking fuming for other reasons -- she _duped Seto Kaiba --_ _no one_ dupes _Seto Kaiba_. She stole his money, dammit!)

He growled, fisted his hair despite the excruciating pain it brought him.

If she wanted money, _ he would have given it to her. _ No questions asked. He’d give her anything --

\-- _ anything _ \--

\-- and she expected him to just… let it go? Let her fade into the city lights like he hadn’t spent three weeks sharing his life, his body with her?

He growled again.

He already knew; he could _ never _have another woman after Yami. There was just no contest.

No contest to her sparkling ruby eyes, her sly smile, her slender, welcoming body.

\-- If anything, his splitting migraine only hardened his resolve --

He’d find her. He’d find her, and he’d get her back.

* * *

The smoke and the noise inside the casino was simply disgusting. Seto Kaiba curled his nose at the stench and the cacophony, but still plowed on through the crowds.

It didn't surprise him when his search brought him back to fucking Las Vegas, Nevada. Men who played fast and loose with their pocketbooks would probably make the easiest prey.

And who wouldn't want to dote on such an enchanting creature?

He moved deeper into the belly of the beast.

There had apparently been a professional poker tournament earlier in the evening. The banquet was just about to start.

Where else would she be in this godforsaken cess pit?

The tinkling of glasses and raucous laughter filtered out of the grand arched doorway to the banquet hall. Kaiba strode closer, closer, closer. Yes, he may not have been part of this so-called tournament, but he greatly doubted that they would turn him away.

Sure enough, he ambled right through the entrance.

His eyebrows rose. The banquet hall was densely packed. Kaiba didn’t realize that professional poker was so_ popular_.

Sharp blue eyes scoured the room. He’d see her, he was sure. Even with her slight build and stature, she stood out from a crowd.

And sure enough, there she was.

Yami. _ Atem Muto_, was her given name, but Kaiba could only imagine the living flesh as Yami when Atem had become the name he’d whisper and growl as he pleasured himself late at night.

There she was, delicately perched on some idiot’s arm -- his stars-and-stripes bandana was simply garish and only blithering morons wore sunglasses indoors -- and she was wrapped up in a red and gold cocktail dress…

A dress Seto Kaiba himself had purchased for her.

Her tantalizing red lips were curled into a smile, but it was an empty, stiff smile -- though still beguiling -- the smile she gave to feign interest and delight for old, rich fools. She giggled, tittering, fake, leaned her cheek on the man’s broad shoulder as he gave her a cocky, smarmy grin.

Kaiba’s teeth gritted so hard he was sure he would snap a molar or two.

She held a delicate hand over her mouth, her painted nails flashing in the light of the pretentious chandeliers, and Kaiba remembered suddenly in vivid detail the sensation of those nails carving into his back as he fucked her until she was a crying mess. Something in him raged at the thought of her claws marring another so --

Did that blond bastard get to touch her, taste her like Kaiba had? Like Kaiba had so many times, over and over, until the moments blurred together into an ecstatic haze? Did she scratch up _ his _ back as she panted and mewled so beautifully -- so _ beautifully _ that it haunted Kaiba both asleep and awake alike?

Perhaps she felt the intensity of his gaze on her, because suddenly their eyes met and it felt like someone ran a red-hot brand up Kaiba’s spine. She froze, her face falling blank, and Kaiba was quick to bite back the snarl twisting his face.

Those red eyes blinked, and Kaiba whirled away, hot and panting with anger and jealousy and _ arousal_.

_ Goddamnit _she turned him into an utter mess.

He stalked away, and the back of his neck prickled.

She was following him.

His lip twitched. He meandered away, to a more secluded part of the building. If she was going to follow him, he would use it to his advantage.

He looked over his shoulder before he ducked into a unisex bathroom. Yes, she saw him enter it. And there, he waited those bare seconds before she arrived.

Once she was past the threshold, he firmly palmed the door shut behind them and engaged the lock.

Her wide red eyes stared at him through the mirror above the lone sink. Her pupils were blown wide, her lips parted and her cheeks ruddy. His lip curled into a pleased snarl.

“Atem Mutou,” he growled. “_That’s _ your name. Your _ real _ name.”

Her chest heaved, but she said nothing, only gave a firm nod to his reflection.

He prowled closer, set his hands on either side of her on the sink basin. He wasn’t touching her, but he could _ feel _ the warmth of her body, and he knew she could feel his.

“You’re a clumsy thief; you were very easy to find,” he hissed, so tempted to turn his face and bury it in her wild hair.

She took a shuddering inhale, but her voice was still smug and confident. “It still took you two months.”

“Predicting where you would be next was the hardest part,” he replied. “There’s so many men out there for you to swindle, I couldn’t possibly guess who would be the next victim."

Their gazes met in the mirror again. “What do you want, Kaiba? You could’ve simply stolen your money back. I know it would be easy for you,” she said, cool and collected despite the aroused blush on her cheeks.

“But that’s not what you wanted me to do, was it? Your paper trail was too obvious for that, Atem,” he cooed, almost mockingly. “And don’t forget the fact that you donated eighty-percent of my money to charity. Only a monster would steal it back.” He smirked at her, sharp and toothy and on-edge because _ damn _ she smelled amazing. “What? Do you fancy yourself a modern femme-fatale Robin Hood? Rob from the rich… give to the poor. Though I don’t remember the part where Robin Hood fucks his marks for three weeks straight,” he growled, finally giving into temptation and roughly nuzzling the side of her face.

She shuddered, and her head craned away to give him access to her slender neck. He immediately set his teeth to it. “I-I generally don’t fuck my victims.” She gasped when he bit down on her well-remembered sensitive spot. “Y-You’re an exception.”

Kaiba moved his body closer, let her back brush against his front. “Am I?” he growled against her skin. He brushed his lips on her ear. “Are you telling me that you aren’t sleeping with that blond oaf whose arm you were hanging on?”

Atem arched back against him, and she finally touched him; her hand tangled hard in his hair. “I would _ never _sleep with the likes of him. Cocky bastards like that are always selfish lovers.”

He hummed, low and rumbling, and one hand dropped to her hip to drag her up and back against him. She moaned quietly. “Would he now?” He thrusted once, hard, and her head dropped forward, her other hand scrambling for purchase on the sink basin. “And what made _ me _ so different, hm?”

Her panting breaths were _ audible _ now. “T-The way you looked at me. You wanted to --” she gasped as he punched his hips against her again. “-- s-see me fall apart.”

His hand slid down, to her thigh, and then up her skirt. “See, that’s where you’re wrong…” he whispered, eyes locking with hers as his hand slid up, up, _ up_, and then he was cupping her through her damp, lacy underwear. “I wanted to _ worship _ you.”

She mewled -- _ yes_, that _ sound _ \-- knees trembling, and perhaps it was only Kaiba’s salacious grip on her that kept her from collapsing right to the ground. “You d-don’t seem like the type.”

He stroked her deftly with long, dextrous fingers. “You see, when I _ really _ \--” he punctuated the word with a hard thrust against her, “-- like something, I will build fucking _ monuments _ to it.” He slipped his fingers under lace to bare skin and suddenly she was bucking and melting all at the same time. Her spine was arched so acutely the top of her head was pressing against his shoulder. He growled at the feel of her, so hot and wet, beneath his fingertips. "You didn't have to fucking steal my money, Atem," he snarled, and his breath punched out even harsher from his lungs when one of her hands scrambled back to claw at his belt. He slapped her hand away, did it himself. The sound of his zipper was lost amongst their harsh noises of arousal and pleasure. "Anything you wanted…" he met her eyes in the mirror as he clawed her panties out of the way. "... I would _ give it to you_." And he thrusted against her again, this time bare skin on bare skin, wet and sliding and making her spasm and scramble and mewl.

"K-Kaiba…" she gasped.

"Hn," he grunted, teeth gritting. "It _ feels _ like you missed me as much as I missed you," he hissed. He ground against her more, more, more, pressed his face to her neck as his jaw dropped open on choked moans.

"I--," she arched more, _ god _ it looked so hot and so damn painful. "I-I _ have._" She shifted restlessly, tried to get him to finally, _ finally _push inside.

"Oh?" The sound was all but a groan.

"I _ knew _ you would find me," she moaned. "I _ knew_."

He snarled, clawed at her hips. "Are you saying this is just one of your _ games_, Atem?"

"Ours," she breathed, turning her head to meet his lips. "_Our games_."

"Our games," he echoed against her mouth. "_Our _ games," and then he was giving her what they both wanted.

She cried, rapturous, lurching forward.

"Oh, I _ missed _ you," she groaned, sounding more like some lustful animal than the elegant woman she pretended to be. "Th-There's n-no one like you."

He breathed out hotly, watched her expression in the mirror as he wracked her body with each thrust. "D-Damn right." He nipped at her ear. "_Hn_." He set his teeth to her neck again. "S-So it was all a little breadcrumb trail…"

She thrashed in his arms. He knew he was getting _ that one spot_. "Yes! All of it!" She nearly crumpled where she stood if not for his grip on her heaving body. "I'd… I'd given up hope, you t-took so long."

He twisted a hand into her hair, wrenched her closer for another searing, breathless kiss. "What?" He hissed against her lips. "You thought I'd let you go that easily?"

"No m-more words," she mewled. "Just fuck me."

Anything she wanted, he would give it to her.

Falling into the rhythm of her body was so easy, muscle memory at this point. Yes, his body had memorized hers, all the ways to make her cry out and quiver in his grasp. She could only buck back and hold on for the ride of her life.

Kaiba stared intensely into the mirror. Her hazy eyes met his, and he snarled at her, desirous and sexual. Their reflection was, in all honesty, a censored version of events; her skirt, though lifted for his access in the back, still dangled down in the front, covered up where he was moving against her, into her, covered how the waistband of his pants was inching down his thighs with each bestial thrust. Still she was fully clothed, all wrapped up and that red and gold dress he'd not yet the chance to tear right from her body.

But it laid bare their flushing faces, Kaiba's face, so red and sweating and so fucking _ salacious _ \-- only this woman could turn him into a humping _ animal_, and hers so delirious and so full of surrender, like she was sacrificing her body to the beast that was taking her.

The thought made him surge against her stronger than ever, and her mewling, overstimulated moans were his reward. Her knees buckled, and Kaiba moved with her down to the floor. He disengaged from her wet, wanting body -- much to her very vocal displeasure, only to twist her in his lap, her legs splaying about his waist, and taking her again, face-to-face.

Her keening moan echoed in the small bathroom, and Kaiba purred in delight when her trembling arms linked around his neck. He lunged, pressed her to the wall for leverage, their panting lips so close, brushing against each other with every hungry thrust.

"S-Seto," she mewled, pleasured tears glistening in her ruby eyes. "I'm --" but she couldn't spit out another syllable, let alone a full sentence.

"I know," he growled in response. And then one of his hands was dropping between them and plunging under her skirt to wildly caress her where she was most sensitive.

She shattered, right there in his arms, bucking wildly and too overwhelmed to even make a sound anymore. His eyes rolled back, and he thrusted hard, more than likely hard enough to make her spine grate against the wall, but pleasure overshadowed his guilt, all of that pent-up desire spilling forth inside her.

They slumped, a hot, sweaty, _ satisfied _ mess.

Kaiba hummed, breathless, and panted against her lips, "Two months without you is t-two months too long."

She giggled, airy and euphoric. "Find me faster next time."

He growled, a little hoarsely -- a _ lot _hoarsely. "You plan on ditching me again?"

"Mmm, maybe, if the sex is this fucking good every time I do it," she replied, rubbing their noses together. "Again, as I've said before, you keep rewarding my bad behavior with toe-curling, scream-my-lungs-out sex."

Kaiba bucked teasingly against her. "If I don't satisfy you, you'd leave me. If I do satisfy you, you'd leave me. Can't a guy win for once?"

"Hmmm…" her trembling finger traced the outline of his lips. "Maybe you'll just have to get used to losing to me, Seto Kaiba."

"Never," he rasped. "I'll win eventually. You can't hold out forever."

She didn't say anything in return, only kissed him.

"I'll always chase you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly tempted to write a part 2 of this from Atem's perspective, but I'll see how reader response is to this part.
> 
> Also, as in most of my AUs, Yugi and Atem are siblings, though the rest of the details shall be left up to your imagination, unless I decide to write a part 2 and flesh out more of those details.
> 
> Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this! See ya later!


	2. Wicked Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ Wicked Game, Chris Isaak ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aid2vMbCNP8&list=PLoOCqA_3dVC_qeDGfCrxd5gdsKc0yBJ9N&index=147&t=0s)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'rreeee baaaack, bitches, with the awaited part 2. This is, of course, from Atem's POV. It will cover things that were already covered in the previous part, it might skip over some things, and it will of course include scenes that were not covered in the previous part.

Las Vegas, Nevada, the Unites States of America. Sin City. Neon flashed endlessly at all hours. From far away, the lights glowed insidiously in the desolate desert.

Atem Muto hated this fucking city. 

The indulgence. The waste. If you stuck the people with a needle, they would bleed money. Green blood. It was nauseating. 

But the men here made such easy prey. Or maybe she was just the perfect predator. That thought in mind, she stalked up through the clouds of cigar smoke to a nearly-full poker table. All but one chair was occupied by some rich fool. 

She liked poker well enough. Two birds. One stone. And, it was for charity. A nice bonus, she supposed. She sauntered closer, sank into that last chair with practiced elegance. She smiled at the men instantly eying her.

She could see it in their gazes.

They were already underestimating her.

Ah, they probably thought, how could that pretty little thing hope to compare to us? Cute little thing.

She wondered if they saw the sharp disgust in her demure smile.

They were already trapped in her web before she even touched her cards, fanned to her lips to hide her smug grin. A few bats of the eyelashes here, a pursing of the lips there, and she was beneath their skins. It wasn’t hard for her to burrow deeper, sink herself into their nerves and their blood vessels. Her intuition told her that one of this poor boys would be her prey.

One gaze on her was more intense than all the others. A stern, scowling _ young _ man sat across from her at the table. 

He looked back up to her, and she found herself inexplicably locked in his blue, _ blue _eyes. She hid her sharp intake with fanned cards held to her lips.

And the game started.

As stonefaced as the man tried to be, and was to the other people at the table, Atem found herself reading him as if he were an open book. His posture would shift just so on a bluff, his fingers tap this way and that when he was unsure. 

But most open of all was his interest in her. The blue eyes were sharp as daggers, and they trailed about her, and, certainly, it felt like the tip of a knife brushing along her flesh. Lingering, dangerous. Exciting.

Arousing.

Atem had partook in her fair share of dangerous games, and this blue-eyed young man seemed like the most dangerous game of them all.

She forced herself to concentrate on her other opponents, these clucking old fools, following her already like stupid lost sheep. She held in a huff. It might as well have just been her and this blue-eyed beau playing. 

She met his steely gaze again. She gave him her best simpering smirk, and she winked. 

He all but snarled. 

But the expression quickly faded to shock when she laid down her hand and dragged the ridiculous large pile of chips in the center of the table toward herself. “I’m sorry, boys, but I’ll be taking these,” she sang. 

She met his gaze. His face was a furious red, and his chest all but heaved with heavy, enraged breaths. She winked slyly and stood. Her hips rocked in just the right way as she walked away, and she resisted the urged to throw a smirk over her shoulder.

_ Come and get me, baby. _

* * *

She needed a drink. This old men were exhausting; she couldn’t count how many times she had to deflect a presumptuous hand or delicately turn down a rather offensive offer. While she had dressed particularly provocative tonight, it wasn’t an invitation to paw at her, and it certainly didn’t mean that she was a prostitute. She held her appletini to her lips and took a little sip. She didn’t notice the little lipstick stain she left behind.

“That was quite the win,” a deep, rasping voice said next to her, nearly making her jump out of her seat, though she hid it well. “You won’t be so lucky next time.”

She flicked her eyes to her visitor. 

The blue-eyed stud from the poker game.

She turned her face to look at him fully. Closer now, she could see that he was a giant; he towered over her already diminutive frame. His long body was perched easily on the barstool. His pale skin glowed under the golden lights of the casino. “Hm, is that what you think?” And she purred a chuckle and watch those blue eyes darken. “Let me tell you...” She leaned closer and looked up at him through her dark lashes. His scent, spicy and masculine, inundated her senses, and she found herself quickly swallowing the saliva pooling in her mouth. “... that that was hardly just luck on my part.”

She saw his jaw tense, the bone straining against his flesh. Wicked heat curled through her. “Well, you certainly knew how to play the crowd.”

She found herself laughing, sultry, and she slowly crossed one leg over the other. His vivid eyes eagerly followed the motion, and the way his nostrils flared, his lip curling into a snarl, made Atem’s heart race.

_ You’re so right_, she wanted to giggle. She did know how to play the crowd, and it seemed she knew how to play _ him _ \-- the arrogant, self-assured rich buck.

Instead she rolled a shoulder seductively and smiled coyly and watched it all wreak havoc on the poor man’s hormones. “Maybe I just know how to _ play_,” and she said that last word so suggestively it made him shift in his seat. She looked over him, those broad shoulders, the long legs. 

He looked so damn _ climbable_, and she hurriedly banished that thought with a sip of her cocktail. “What’s your name, stranger?”

He scoffed, and she arched an eyebrow. 

Was she _ supposed _to know his name? How arrogant.

“Seto Kaiba,” he said, and stared at her expectantly.

Her eyebrow winged up higher. She extended a hand. "Yami."

She watched his lip twitch. “Now, that’s hardly fair,” he muttered, but he still accepted her hand. His own was warm -- burning, actually, in the best of ways -- and he lifted her hand up to his lips to brush a kiss to her knuckles. His eyes remained locked with hers all the while, and heat bolted up through her spine. “Play a few more games with me,” he growled, hard, challenging.

She twisted her lips at the provocation. “Are you sure, Kaiba? I might leave you a much poorer man.”

Now, when she took him for all he had, he couldn’t say she didn’t warn him.

“As if,” he snorted. “I’m not as gullible as those old men.”

She smirked at him.

_ Oh, we’ll see about that, Kaiba. _

* * *

He was so easy to seduce, and, for once, Atem was enjoying herself in more than her usual ways -- he was titillating, the way he stared, ate up her bait with those pretty blue eyes. The way he licked his lips. The way he eyed her like he wanted to peel her dress away and devour the flesh beneath.

He looked at her like he wanted to take her apart and to hell with putting her back together again. 

She didn’t mind (she encouraged it, with all her little flirtatious gestures), especially since she kept scooping up his chips just like all the other puppet-like men at the table. She scraped those little coins up with a smug and coy smile. “Oops,” though she could tell by the way Kaiba sneered at her that he heard the condescending irony in her voice. 

She met his gaze, and her knees nearly shook at the heat in his cold blue eyes. “I’ve grown bored of this game.” She stood, adjusted her red dress. Kaiba was only amongst the herd when he stood to follow, but she _ knew_, could feel his gaze lingering over her body like the most tender, lustful hands. Her new entourage trailed after her as she sauntered to the roulette table.

Heat radiated at her back, the heat of a human body, and that spicy, musky scent that brought out something hot and hungry in her threaded into her senses. Kaiba was close, hesitating, as if asking for permission.

No, that was exactly what he was doing. With a purring, pleased chuckle, she leaned back into him. He felt firm and warm under his suit.

Oh, god. 

“Roulette is purely luck-based,” Kaiba rumbled, ducked close to her ear. His breath fluttered, hot and damp, against the sensitive cartilage, and something in her shuddered and melted. 

She turned her head until their noses brushed, and suddenly that sweet breath was huffing onto her lips, and she found herself amused. Even if the pure desire in those oceanic eyes made her want to drop to her knees right then and there. “Well, you seem to think I have good luck. Why not try it?”

He hummed, and the vibrations of it resonated right into her spine. His huge hand -- slender and with long fingers that she wanted to feel everywhere on her -- landed, tentative on her hip, and he kept their gazes locked.

\-- such entitlement and yet he searched her soul for reciprocation (the thought made her heart race faster) --

“Luck can only get you so far,” he warned.

She giggled, turned back to the table, and stayed close, leaning into his hand and pressed to his chest. “Pick a color, Kaiba,” she purred.

Then his finger was tracing a dress strap on her shoulder. It occasionally ducked a little beneath, and the contact sent little shocks, like static, through her flesh. “Red,” he growled.

The roulette wheel spun, but Atem could only pay attention to the man behind her. He was continuously touching her, seducing her, brushing his fingers through her wild hair and sighing hungrily, sliding his hot palm along the curve of her waist where her flesh was occasionally bared by the cut of her dress, tracing his fingers down the plane of her back that arched responsively beneath his touch. She bit her lip, and then shifted, up, onto her toes, and his hand skimmed the curve of her ass. 

He growled, and then squeezed, firmly and with such intent it made Atem’s knees wobble, and her breath caught in her throat. His hand moved back to her hip where his thumb rubbed over the material of her dress.

Suddenly, he hunkered, nuzzling just under her ear. His warm, soft lips glanced off her sensitive flesh. “Come to my suite with me,” he murmured, the ghost of a kiss on the shell of her ear. “There are more… _ games _ for us to play.”

She shuddered. Her body ached for him -- _ yes, take me _ \-- she’d never felt chemistry as she did with this man, where she was already hot and bothered enough to want him right here, right now, audience and propriety be damned. 

But she didn’t sleep with her marks. 

While she was a thief, she wouldn’t stoop that low.

But it seemed her _ id _ was taking over. She couldn’t pass up this raw sexual tension. 

She turned her head, and there he was, their lips almost touching. “You have no idea what you’re getting into, Seto Kaiba.” She tried her best to keep the moan out of her voice.

“Maybe that’s part of the thrill,” he growled.

“One more spin,” she whispered, voice wobbling when his finger dipped into the cut of the material on her waist. 

“You’ve taken enough money from these poor saps.” His long finger curled around her ever more.

“They can spare a few more chips.” It was only chump change to these bastards, anyway. She moved her head to brush their noses together. God, she couldn’t wait to kiss him. “I’d think you didn’t care so much about this evening’s charitable cause.”

He bared his teeth in a rather sexual snarl, and she nearly whimpered. Dear god, what would he look like when he was fucking her? “I’ve contributed enough of my own funds.” His finger pressed into her flesh like a brand. “Maybe I just want to take home a prize.”

She couldn’t hide her shudder, and she leaned further into the tantalizing heat of his body. “And you can. After one more spin.”

She’d normally hate to be labeled like that, a ‘prize,’ some_ thing _ to be won, but, the throbbing arousal in her veins was telling her that she wouldn’t mind being Seto Kaiba’s plaything.

“Tease,” he hissed when she turned forward again. “Bet on all red again.”

“Planned on it.”

If only she could bet on blue.

* * *

He’d given her all those chances to escape, to walk away.

But she didn’t. And then she tasted his lips, and touched his body (after ripping his shirt open in an honestly uncharacteristic display of savagery), and then he was on his knees and worshiping her like a paegan goddess.

She felt her nails catch on his scalp, but he didn’t relent; if anything, it made him more ravenous, devouring her as if he hadn’t eaten in days. 

_ I’ve wanted this all night_, he had said, and she felt the words on her tongue, _ I know, me too, me too, _ but she could only mewl and gasp, “Oh god, oh _ god._”

Never had she met a man so fucking eager to go down on her, and she was honestly relieved; sex would’ve been ruined for her forever a while ago. 

But no, he was ruining it for her right here, right now, on an entryway table in his suite in Las Vegas, and she couldn’t even be mad. 

He let her rock against his face, worked _ with _ her motions, set his hot tongue to all the right places. She scrambled for purchase as he drove her wild, and it was like her body wasn’t even in her control anymore -- she the puppet, he the puppetmaster, his sly tongue pulling the strings.

And then she was bowing, her spine hurt -- she was pretty sure it cracked -- but she was orgasming so hard that none of it mattered. Her resounding cry of his name echoed in the entryway, and she was sure all of the guests in a hundred-foot radius now knew that Seto Kaiba was a master of cunnilingus. 

He let her ride it out, his tongue firm yet somehow gentle, and then he stood. Her hips still bucked -- that pleasure was pulsing inside her like a second heart -- and she whimpered piteously.

His hands spread out on either side of her hips, and he leaned down, licking his lips and his blue eyes burning. She arched up for a kiss, but he turned his head to brush his lips against her ear instead. “Would you like something to drink?”

“What?” she whimpered, her fingers clawing into his open shirt. 

“It’s customary for a host to offer his guest a refreshment,” he murmured. “Would you like something to drink, Yami?”

She clutched at his belt. “Yes.”

He drew away, and she nearly cried out. What was he doing? Did he want her to reciprocate or not?

“Well, what do you want?” he asked dryly.

She stared at him incredulously. He was being serious. He wanted to know if she wanted something to drink. She licked her lips. Her mouth was considerably dry after panting so much. 

“Water, please,” she said quietly, and moved to stand. Her legs wobbled, and she nearly fell on her ass, if it weren’t for the huge hands suddenly wrapped around her bare waist.

She looked up. Those blue eyes were grinning smugly. That look did things to her that it probably shouldn’t -- couldn’t he just take her right then and there?

“I didn’t mean to incapacitate you,” he purred, but she heard the irony in his voice.

He most certainly _ did _ mean to.

“Sure,” she whispered.

He set her on her feet again, and guided her into the full-sized kitchen. “Ice?” he asked when they finally got there, and he’d stretched his magnificent body up to grab a glass. Atem felt her insides clench. 

“Yes,” she answered, rather distractedly. She’d need to find a way to get the rest of his clothes off. It just didn’t do that he was nearly fully clothed while she was naked -- they needed to be working on an even playing field.

She accepted the glass from him and was thankful when her hands didn’t shake like she thought they were going to. He sipped from his own glass, and his eyes trailed along her slowly, like honey dripping down her bare skin. She let some water trickle from her lips, until it was curling down her chin and following the slope of her neck. She shuddered, and blinked slowly as his eyes met hers. Sated, for now, she set her glass to the side and sidled closer to him.

Her hands -- cold from her glass -- skimmed his delicious abdomen, and the muscles recoiled under the touch. He set his own glass down, and curled down the slightest bit. His gaze nearly bored holes into her face as she rubbed up sensually, dug her palms into his hard body, and then leaned forward to kittenishly swipe her tongue on his nipple. 

His pectoral muscle jumped, and he grunted, but he didn’t move away. 

Atem set a palm to the front of his pants. He moaned.

“What about you, Kaiba?” She kissed up his chest and nearly melted at the taste of his skin while she rubbed him sensually.

He was snatching her up, spinning her -- dejavu, she thought -- and set her down on the diorite countertop. But a brush of his thumb on her inner thigh and she was eagerly spreading her legs for him and laying back. He leaned over her, palms by her head, and she bucked up against him.

“I’m clean and I’m on birth control,” she panted, tugging at his belt and finally -- _ finally _ \-- getting it free.

“I’m clean,” he growled back. “Are you telling me you want to fuck me right here?”

“_Yes,_” she groaned. 

“Goddamn,” he hissed, helping her push his waistband down, and then his boxers after that. 

She nearly cried at the sight of him. God, she needed it, and she needed it _ now_. “C’mon, Kaiba,” she mewled, “Show me what you’ve got.”

And then he was tugging her up, and she eagerly wrapped her legs around his hips. A swift thrust, he was piercing her, filling her to the brim and then some, and she cried out, enjoying every minute of it. 

He growled in her ear, a beast, and she shuddered to see that snarl on his face.

It was even hotter than she had imagined. 

He fucked her hard enough that her mascara smeared with tears of pleasure, that she wondered faintly -- between those distracting thoughts of _ dear god _ and _ yes, more _ \-- if he would have permanent scars on his back from her desperately clawing nails. In that spectacular fashion, he brought her to her second -- but hardly final -- orgasm of the night.

She was amazed that she could muster up the strength to walk afterwards.

* * *

Her cries echoed in the shower and made her that much more desirous. He was an animal between her legs, humping and snarling and pinning her to the glass. She clawed at his back, scrabbling at the wet flesh for purchase, and the hot steam filling the shower made her lungs ache and her insides melt. She knew she must’ve been bouncing wildly from his harsh thrusts, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, could only constrict around him as he stoked the flames higher and higher. 

She threw her head back, wet hair flopping on the glass, Her breaths were stuttering in her lungs, her thighs jumping around his fierce hips, and she was so, _ so fucking close_. The way he was grunting and growling in her ear and clawing at her hips to yank her down onto him like he was punishing her was only ratcheting her up more.

A hard shove, his nails digging into her hips, and the sexiest fucking snarl ripping from his lips had her bucking and shuddering and all but screaming his name as she scrabbled at the frame of the glass door above her. 

He set his teeth to her jaw, and the force of his breath made her shiver, and he was writhing against her as he spilled his heat inside of her for the third time in the last unknown amount of hours. He thrusted weakly those last few pumps, but it was enough for her to mewl with over-stimulation. Then he slumped against her with a hitching, panted sigh.

She still whimpered with every breath, and she carded her hands through his soaked hair. It was so thick, so soft, perfect for getting clenched in her fists. He hummed and set his forehead on her shoulder. She could feel him trembling against her. “F-Fuck…” she mewled, quivering between his body and the hot glass, and the lines of muscle on his back rippled beneath her tracing fingertips.

“Give me an hour…” and the rough, _ ruined _ quality of his voice made heat flash through her, as if he hadn’t just given her one of the most intense and satisfying orgasms of her life.

Dear god, he was turning her into an insatiable sex fiend.

She chuckled, not doubting his recovery time. But her back was sore, and her thighs burned from all the exertion. “I’ll be feeling that for a week,” she murmured, but she loved it. She wanted to strut around, a week from now, and feel the effects of his passion on her body.

There was a pause, and, even over the sound of the thundering water, she could feel him gulp.

“Come with me,” he croaked, barely audible.

“Hm?”

“To Seattle. I leave tomorrow night. Come with me.”

Oh? She chuckled. “What, so I can be your personal bed-warmer?”

Not like that sounded like a bad idea.

He snorted, and then he was mouthing gently at her shoulder. His lips felt so hot against her flesh, and she had to actively try not to think about all the ways they had already pleased her that night. “Don’t be silly. We haven’t touched the bed once.”

She sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

Everywhere else it seemed, all the places not really designed for sex. And maybe he was asking her for selfish reasons, but he was by no means a selfish lover.

The fact that she'd had three more orgasms than he that night attested to the fact.

"How long will the visit to Seattle last?" she asked. If she executed her plan there, she may be able to scrape together enough resources to leave. She moved to drop her legs, but he held on tight and pressed her against the glass even more.

His lips were on her neck, slow, gentle, almost sleepy, and he murmured his words against her flesh, "Four days. Why? Somewhere to be?"

She tilted her head for him, and huffed, eyebrows drawing up when his lips massaged a particularly sensitive spot. "Not exactly…" But then she felt a flash of playful teeth, and she gasped lightly. He seemed rather eager despite being… well, out of commission. "Be careful, Kaiba. Don't start something you can't finish."

His big hands rubbed her sides slowly, deeply, kneading sensually. Her heart, having slowed down steadily, started racing away in her ribcage once again. “Just because one of my appendages is out of play doesn’t mean the others are.” He caught her earlobe between his teeth and scraped it on his pearly incisors. Atem couldn't help but shudder. “What do you say? Or are you not up for it?” the words were a challenge.

Never before had having modest breasts felt so sexy until he was cupping one in his massive palm -- dwarfing it -- and drawing his long thumb over her nipple.

She bit her lip on a whimper. She wasn't even sure what he was asking anymore -- inviting her to fly away with him or inciting another round of sex -- it was all so jumbled in her lust-addled mind. "That's not what I said,"she settled for, her voice but a murmur in the roaring water. "I don't think _ you _ can handle _ me _ for that long." She was scattered further when he dropped a hand down where they were still joined and drew a teasing finger along her sensitive flesh. She quivered, thighs jumping.

His chuckle sounded more like a predatory growl. She thought of some fairytale beast waiting in the forest to devour some young maiden. "I seem to be handling you perfectly fine."

_ There_, he was touching _ right there_, and she mewled his name.

"Come with me," he whispered against her cheek, so soft and seductive and promising.

Oh god, where would she find another man like this?

Her words came out on a breathy moan, "As if I would s-say no."

* * *

Atem smoothed her palms over the material hugging her waist. The red and gold cocktail dress clung savoringly, yet in such a classy fashion, to her every subtle curve and dip. She flicked her hair -- long and dark and bright -- over her shoulder, turned to the side, and looked into the mirror again. It was nearly a perfect fit. 

She sauntered back to the door, and, she noticed with a frown, her hand was shaking. She gulped hard, as if that would settle the tremors in her hands, and turned the handle. The opulent light of the boutique glowed warmly onto her, and, with practised confidence, she stepped out.

Seto Kaiba waited -- surprisingly patient, considering his rather demanding demeanor -- on a black settee fashioned from a most luxurious sable leather. A garment bag, home to a fitted tuxedo, was draped next to him. Those breath-catching blue eyes glanced up from his tablet. And they remained fixed on her, appraised her as if she were fine art. His slow nasal exhale was audible, but he said nothing.

Atem’s eyebrow arched up. “Well? What do you think?”

Kaiba scoffed. “It’s not my opinion that matters. I won’t be wearing it around.”

She held her hand over her mouth to hide her smirk at the thought of Seto Kaiba in a tight red and gold cocktail dress.

“You _ are _ the one purchasing it,” she replied instead, and she gave an elegant twirl to show him the back of the dress.

“I told you to get whatever you wanted, and I meant that,” he growled, though she couldn’t miss the appreciative gleam in those fathomless cerulean depths.

She pursed her lips. It wouldn’t be the first time a man she had known for less than a day had offered to refurbish her wardrobe, but it certainly was the first time she wasn’t being guided on what exactly to select. Though, from what she’d seen so far, Kaiba certainly enjoyed seeing her in varying shades of red or purple.

“And, you might not be the one wearing it, but, I assure you, you’ll be the one taking it off,” she said with a sly wink and a coy grin. 

His eyes narrowed, darkened like a sea in a storm, and Atem giggled. 

“If you like it, buy the damn thing,” he hissed. What other people might mistake for anger, Atem knew to be pure desire. 

It was far too much fun to rile him up.

She puckered her lips to blow him a playful kiss before sauntering back into the fitting room. Every step of the way, his eyes traced over her, along her back, to the swell of hips, dipping down the backs of her thighs to delicately brush her ankles. She shivered, closing the door behind her. If it weren’t a rather public establishment, she would’ve left the door open, let him watch her peel the dress from her body. Maybe he’d want to join her, crowd her up against the wall like he loved to do. He’d press her thighs apart and settle against her and they’d grind together, hot and electric before she’d wiggle his zipper down --

She slapped a palm to her hot face. What was this man doing to her? Public sex? What the hell was she thinking?

A couple of deep breaths had her heart rate under control, but warmth still glowed up from between her thighs. 

Though he made no comment on any of the dresses she tried on, she bought the ones that made it look like he was going to ravage her right where she stood.

Never before had it felt so good to be _ wanted_. 

She wanted him to want her. And she wanted him in return. 

She held a hand to her mouth. 

_ Remember_.

He was a sexy bastard, yes, a fucking beast in the sheets, definitely, but he was a rich, entilted prick, and he didn’t even know her real name and didn’t seem too determined to find it out.

He didn’t care about her.

She couldn’t let herself care about him.

* * *

She’d promised to herself -- in Seattle you’ll pull this off and hop on out of his life -- and she’d promised to herself that she’d pump the brakes a little the next time things were about to get hot and heavy. 

She promised herself that directly before she boarded his private jet.

They were tearing through the sky now, and a comfortable silence had fallen over them. He was reading something on that tablet of his, and she was laying on her back in her seat, her legs draped over the armrest and sprawled on his lap. Nearly absent-mindedly, his hand -- with those long fingers and that hot palm -- stroked over her bare calf. It felt so nice, those slow caresses, and she sighed quietly, her toes curling into his pants. 

He glanced over at her, first her face, then the toned leg he was touching, and then, up her skirt, which had her smirking, before looking right back into her gaze. His eyes narrowed, heated, and that look, Atem had a Pavlovian response to it. That look meant hot, sweaty rounds of sex that left her throat sore and her thighs numb. That look made her heart race and everything in her purr with lust.

His slacks felt soft her the arch of her bare foot as she rubbed him teasingly. The words tumbled from her tongue, unbidden. “Kaiba, I have a question for you.”

His eyes followed his hand as if stroked up to under her knee, and then his thumb rubbed teasing, tingling circles on the sensitive skin he found there. His tablet was set to the side, forgotten. “Ask away.” And then those eyes, those eyes that she always found herself drowning in, were locked on her own.

Somehow, she managed a predatory smirk. “Do you happen to be a member of the mile-high club?”

She certainly wasn’t -- any time she’d been on an airplane, it most certainly hadn’t been with men that she wanted to ride for hours without end. 

Like she wanted Seto Kaiba. 

But _ he, he _owned a private jet, and Atem didn’t doubt for one moment that she wasn’t the first woman to seduce him. A man as rich and handsome as he probably had women throwing themselves at him constantly.

The hungry expression on his face -- yes, that one, where he looked like he was but a breath away from devouring her -- had her licking her lips as his hand slid down along the back of her thigh. She found herself parting her knees, extending her arms above her head.

Surrender.

_ Touch me_. 

“Is that an invitation?” he growled.

“Hm, I didn’t say that,” she purred back.

“You didn’t,” he agreed, but then his hand was pushing under the hem of her skirt anyway and she didn’t mind one bit. “But it was implied.” She arched, only a little because her legs were already weak from this heady desire, but it was just enough for his hand to slither under her and _ squeeze _ and make her gasp and her thighs jump. “But the answer is no,” he continued, kneading her flesh as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her knee that made her wish he’d put his mouth _ elsewhere _\--

\-- who knew that knees were such erogenous zones (apparently Seto Kaiba did, and it wasn’t altogether too surprising that he didn’t give everyone else the memo) --

“I don’t typically have other people on my jet with me,” he said against her skin.

“Oh?” She was so hot, so aroused, she wondered if she would melt into a puddle right there in his hands.

“And, even when I do…” -- a flash of teeth on her shin, and a single finger crawled along the inside of her thigh -- “... I certainly don’t bed them.” And then he was _ touching _her, though so teasingly. He hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose I’m willing to make an exception just this once.

Those implications -- this Seto Kaiba was more straight-laced than she had thought -- and those not-enough touches had her breath picking up, her hands rubbing restlessly at the smooth leather armrest above her head. “You don’t have to go changing your rules just because of me, Kaiba.”

Suddenly, his finger was inside her, and she found herself arching, air panting through her nose, teeth sinking into her lip and the taste of her lipstick on her tongue. “Nonsense,” he rasped. “You’ve wanted this all along.”

Oh, god, she did, she really did, and she couldn’t stop herself from bucking into his touch, riding his hand. “I concede,” and the whimper would have been embarrassing if she weren’t so caught in all these filthy, wonderful things he was making her feel.

“Finally, I win,” he growled, and the seat creaked as he turned, parted her knees, and kneeled between them.

The sight made her mewl, made her chase his retreating hand. “Y-Yes… T-Take your prize, Kaiba.”

He hunkered low, and his spicy scent and thick heat fell over her like some prurient blanket. “I plan to.”

So much for pumping the brakes.

* * *

The public sex that she had cursed herself for fantasizing about came around. It felt so wonderfully dirty, his head tucked under her upturned skirt, the shelves biting into her back and punishing her for loving it so much. She bit back her pleasure, but it had to escape somehow, and it did, in the form of spasming thighs and bucking hips and scrabbling hands.

She thought the first time he went down on her was good. 

He had a fearsome learning curve. 

She felt a little bad about squeezing his head so hard between her thighs, but he didn’t seem to mind; if anything, it was only spurring his devilish tongue on. 

She hissed his name --

\-- she was so close -- and he’d hardly been down there --

\-- and then she wasn’t close anymore. She was _ there_, and she turned her head into her bicep and bit down to muffle the loudest of her noises. The only sounds in the room were her gasping breaths and the motions of his mouth on her. She rode it out on his tongue, and then he was slowly setting her back to her feet. Her death grip on the shelves above her head and her shaking thighs were the only things keeping her upright. She unlocked her jaws and looked down at him just as he looked up.

Those blue eyes seemed to glow in the dark of the supply closet. His smirk, so victorious in having ruined her like this, made that orgasmic heat flare hotter. He stood, slowly, brushing against her, and he gripped the hem of her skirt to move it back into place.

She snatched his wrist, what almost felt like panic besetting her. “No,” and though her tone was firm, the word quivered on her tongue. She wrapped a leg around him and drew him against her. 

God, he was just standing there, not expecting _anything_ in return --

Her fingers shook as she yanked his fly open.

“Here?” He murmured, close to her ear, his deep voice incredulous but still so fucking aroused, and she climbed up him despite her gelatinous limbs and aligned their bodies.

“Yes, here,” she growled. 

He tried to say something, but the words were lost on a moan as she tugged him into her. His hips bucked, and then he was filling her in that way that made her fall apart with utter ecstasy. Neither of them tried to speak anymore, especially since Atem was biting into his jacket shoulder to keep her mewls of over-stimulation to herself. She was already so sensitive, and he was hitting all the _ damn good _ spots on each fucking thrust. His grunting breaths in her ear were making her thighs jump. The material of his suit caught underneath her clawing nails, but neither of them cared, not when they had more important things to focus on, like fucking each other senseless.

It wasn’t long before she was coming and coming _ hard_, and he followed close behind her.

Oh god, public sex was supposed to be bad.

But with Seto Kaiba, everything felt so damn good.

* * *

Lips on her shoulder -- soft and mouthing -- woke her up. 

“Yami…”

That deep voice, the one that haunted her dreams and her fantasies, rumbled in her ear. 

She moaned, twisting for a kiss, one that those lips eagerly supplied. “Yami…”

“Kaiba…” she whimpered back. She reached out blindly, and she should have touched bare flesh, but, instead, her fingers caught the fine material of an expensive suit. 

“Why are you dressed?” she asked, voice thick with sleep.

“I have a meeting.” The chuckle in his tone was audible.

“It’s early,” she grumbled. He may have fucked up her sleep schedule -- literally fucked it up -- but her internal clock was still sharp.

“I know,” his lips nipped up her neck, and she tilted her jaw away to invite more of the sweet little kisses.

“Mmm,” she hummed.

“There’s breakfast in the kitchen. I should be back before noon. Be packed up and ready to go then.”

She sighed into her luxuriously soft pillow. “You expect me to remember this when I’m half-asleep?”

“I left a note on the counter,” he said, chuckling at her. His big, warm palm stroked down her bare back, and she arched into the contact. A last kiss on the back of her neck, and he was gone.

She drifted back into sleep. And then the piercing, shrill ringing of her cell phone tore her from sleep. She slapped her hand about on the nightstand and blearily lifted the wailing device.

**<3 Yugi <3**

She swiped the green icon.

“What’s going on, Aibou…?” she mumbled when she brought the phone to her ear.

“Oh, did I wake you up?” a sheepish chuckle crackled over the receiver. “I never know what time zone you’re in.”

“It’s fine. I should probably get up, anyway.”

Yugi hummed, but he didn’t say anything for a moment.

Atem shivered and scooped up the robe that was lying across the foot of the obnoxiously large bed. Kaiba must’ve left it out for her. 

“You just haven’t called for a while and I thought I should try to contact you,” he explained quietly.

Yugi, her younger brother, was ever the worrier. She bit her lip. It was warranted, given her… career choice.

“I’m fine,” she assured. “I’ve just been… busy.”

He hummed again. 

“A new… job?” Yugi was by no means judgmental, but he certainly didn’t agree with what she decided to do with her life. 

She grunted in response and hobbled out of the bedroom. The Las Vegas suite had been nice, but this Seattle one was chic and modern in all the ways she thought fitting of a man like Kaiba. “This one’s something else…” she said softly, thinking about those hazy morning kisses he had left her not even two hours before.

“Atem…” he said quietly, concern in his voice.

“I…” she took a deep breath, took a moment to lean against the wall, she held her forehead in her free hand. “I slept with him, Yugi.”

He didn’t gasp, but his sharp intake of air pierced her ear. “Atem…”

“I know. I know,” she mumbled. “I know, Yugi. But it happened. It _ keeps _happening.” She tried her best to keep her breathing even. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Abort the mission,” he immediately replied. Though ‘mission’ was an honestly inaccurate word to really capture what she was doing. It was hardly as organized and professional as a ‘mission,’ especially after she had gotten _ this _ sloppy.

“But --” 

“No buts. This isn’t going to end well, and I don’t mean for him. I’m worried about _ you_, Atem. You don’t… do _ that _ with marks, and you don’t drop off the radar for a whole week.” 

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, sniffing back tears.

“Don’t apologize. Just, take care of yourself, okay? Be careful. I don’t want to pick up the pieces of my big sister’s heart again, okay?”

“Okay,” she murmured. “I love you, Yugi.”

He sighed, a fond sigh. “I love you, too, Atem. Come back home soon, okay? Gramps and I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay,” and her voice sounded a lot firmer now, and maybe that was what convinced Yugi to finally hang up.

She tucked her phone into the pocket of her robe and carefully wiped the tears from her face. Her feet padded audibly on the dark hardwood floors, and, sure enough, on a plate warmer in the kitchen, sat a plateful of breakfast.

A little note sat next to it, in Kaiba’s elegant scrawl.

_ Be packed and ready by noon. We’re going on a little adventure in the mountains. _

_ \-- SK _

She shook her head. Why had he even bothered to wake her up?

A phantom of his lips brushed her skin, and she rubbed her shoulder, but it only made the tingling shadow of his kisses grow stronger. 

Maybe he’d just wanted to hear her voice before he left…

She bit her lip, hard, hard enough to leave a mark but not quite hard enough to break the skin. She had to stop thinking like that. A man like Seto Kaiba wouldn’t want what seemed to be a random gold-digger he’d picked up from a smoke-clogged casino in Vegas. 

But she remembered the faces he’d made but two nights before, at that party. The way he stared at her when she laughed, as if it were a symphony pouring from her lips instead of amusement. The way he worshiped her body every chance he got, her pleasure his first priority and his own seemingly much, _ much _ further down the list. The way he got her whatever she wanted, as if she _ deserved _it, deserved all the things in life that she desired. 

As if she deserved it, like she wasn’t digging through his finances when he wasn’t looking.

Like she wasn’t planning to swindle him for all he’s worth.

Like she wasn’t planning misplaced revenge on him for all the bad things that had happened in her life.

Never before had her entrapment worked so well, and never before had it scared Atem so much. 

* * *

Maybe it should’ve embarrassed the both of them that the first time they had sex at the cabin just so happened to be in the front seat of Kaiba’s car. It was awkward, and cramped, but maybe that made it all feel so much fucking better. And all the while, she fantasized about what he had said.

_ Maybe I’ll bind you up and use you like a toy. _

Yes, all tied up, vulnerable, at his mercy for him to do as he pleased. Anyone else, anyone else but Seto Kaiba, and she’d be nervous, unwilling to give someone such power, but no, Seto Kaiba would be most concerned with making her cry and whimper and mewl with pleasure. He’d drive her crazy, drive her to sensitivity and overstimulation and probably delirium.

She turned her face, buried it into his neck, while their hips rocked together and made the car shake and while he snarled the filthiest, most wonderful things in her ear. And while her mouth dropped open on silent, strained cries and her calves brushed over his clothed thighs -- he was still in the suit from his meeting earlier.

He’d been strutting around, king of the capitalist hill, in that suit, dominating the boardroom, and now he was wearing that suit as he fucked her, fully clothed, in the front seat of his expensive car.

It probably shouldn’t have turned her on as much as it did.

He moaned, long, loud, unrestrained, his palm slamming into the passenger side window, and then she was clawing at him, head whipping back, hair leaving tiny brushstrokes on the foggy window. They were coming, just like that, his piercing blue eyes boring into her face. They were squirming, fluttering in the pleasure, and he was groaning.

“Fucking Christ, the things you make me do,” he rasped, face still contorted with pleasure.

“First time going all the way in a car?” She asked, voice still with that mewling quality. After all, he did finger her in his limo just a few days ago; his vehicular experiences weren’t _ all _ innocent. 

“Yes,” he growled, disengaging from her -- she whimpered -- and leaning against the driver side door.

_ Me, too_, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t, and she didn’t. 

But, every minute she spent with him, she found herself eyeing Seto Kaiba a little more closely. What was he trying to say? That he didn’t do this with other women?

And a new thought occurred, one that made her shiver -- was she the only one who could make him growl like a beast and fuck like an animal?

Atem hummed, extended her foot -- bare, because, somewhere in the sweaty chaos, she’d lost her shoe -- and rubbed it along his thigh. “Well, it was very good.”

_ It’s always good with you, Kaiba. _

With all of her other lovers, the few that she allowed herself to have, there was always a time she had to _ fake it _ for them.

Not once for Kaiba. _ Never _ for Kaiba.

“Of course it was.” His lip curled up into a sneering smirk. “Let’s go inside.”

A whimpering laugh escaped her. “You might have to carry me. I don’t know if I can walk.”

And, like anything she asked of him, he did it.

* * *

This wasn’t just sex. This wasn’t _ fucking_.

Out here, in the rain, he _ made love _ to Atem. Slick and cold and shivering, but from the heat and the liquid pleasure, as he surged into her slowly, with such tender intent each time, nuzzling one another, hot breaths fogging on cool skin. His lips trembled, his fingers quivered where he was cupping her neck, where he was holding her against his body. Those bestial growls were no where to be heard, and, instead, he moaned, low, brokenly, between softly mouthed kisses at her lips and throat.

Tears fell down her cheeks, but the rain hid them, diluted them.

She couldn’t do it.

She couldn’t do it to him.

She was in love with the bastard.

* * *

“Come with me.”

“Hm?”

“To New York.”

“Mm. ‘Kay.”

* * *

His face was blank when he handed her the garment bag.

“What’s this?” she murmured, rather facetiously, since it was obviously a dress.

His lip twitched. “Open it.”

Trying to keep her excitement at bay, she pulled the zipper down. From between the curtains of black, peered vivid crimson material. Her lips parted and she let the bag drop to the floor. It was long and shimmering, but not overtly gaudy, elegant and stunning.

She held a hand over her mouth. She doubted that she ever touched something so beautiful as this dress. “Kaiba…”

“Try it on,” he said, and though it was phrased like a demand, it was so quiet.

Immediately, she began stripping before him, right in the living room of his New York penthouse, 

\-- it’s not like he didn’t have intimate knowledge of her entire body, anyway --

She carefully stepped into the material, so soft and silky, and he stepped in, helped her get the tie behind her neck. His long fingers, brushed her hair away, and he carefully fastened it.

She turned to him, smoothed her hands over the flowing skirt. “It… it fits perfectly.”

He was smiling softly -- not smirking, not grinning, _ smiling. _“I have _ very _ good spacial reasoning.”

“Well, with how much your hands have been all over my body, you most certainly should have my exact measurements down,” she joked. “What tailor in New York could have a dress fitted so soon?” They’d barely been there three days. 

“One that got an email from a very determined man in Seattle who just so happens to have a quite a large amount of money at his disposal.”

Atem narrowed her eyes playfully. “As if you knew I would come with you.”

“I’d hoped,” he admitted freely. “Though if you didn’t, at least I’d have a lovely dress to remember you by.”

“You’d keep it?” she asked quietly, blinking up at him.

He only hummed.

Cheeks warm, she looked back down to the dress. She ran her hands along the silky material, The beautiful tangles of black lace at intervals, laden with what were probably real diamonds, so small, just there to catch the light. 

She looked back up at him, and she couldn’t hide the shyness from her smile. “How do I look?”

Those blue eyes -- fathomless, stormy -- drowned her. Even as his hand stroked her cheek, the pad of his thumb just barely catching on her lashes, she could only look into his eyes. He leaned down, and she tilted her head up, but his lips pressed to her forehead. Her breath caught in her throat, and she set her palms on his chest. The soft fluttering of his breath was warm on her skin, and then he was moving, brushing their noses together before kissing her softly. That passion stirred, but still, he kept it slow, kissing her deeply, thoroughly. She whimpered against his lips, her fingers curling into his shirt.

He pulled away, just the slightest inch, but still they hovered close. 

“One of my associates is throwing a ball tomorrow night. Stuffy, pretentious thing. I’d like a date. And I’d like my date to be you,” he said hoarsely.

“Of course,” she whispered, stretching up for another brief kiss. “Do you want me to wear this dress?”

“... I’d like that,” he replied simply, yet noncommittally. _ I’d like it, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. _

* * *

She was going to do it.

It was all underway.

Just over a hundred thousand dollars would be dispersed to several charities of Atem’s choice. She knew he wouldn’t care about the amount -- a hundred thousand dollars was a laughable amount to Seto Kaiba.

The paper trail was more than obvious. She’d leave it up to him -- he could seek her out (_Atem_, not Yami) for revenge or perhaps to continue what they had going, or he would ignore her, allow her to fade into the shadows, a hot fling to be forgotten.

So many birds with one stone: did he want the _ real _ Atem -- swindling gold-digger robin hood figure; did this mean more to him than just sex; and so many more nebulous doubts that Atem couldn’t possibly put into words. 

The ultimate test, she supposed. Or perhaps the ultimate game.

It was all up to Kaiba to decide.

* * *

The drinks were a lot stronger in New York than they had been in Seattle. That would explain why it had been so easy to get him drunk -- Seto Kaiba responded well to goading and challenges, and she managed to convince him to go back out on the town after returning to the hotel just long enough for her to get changed. 

\-- She was going to have to leave that beautiful red dress with him, but maybe he’d save it for her --

And he stumbled after her, still decked in his tuxedo.

The night was a blur -- lively clubs she needled him into visiting. Apparently, when his blood-alcohol level was high enough, Kaiba didn’t mind dancing so much, and became a much more active participant. She imbibed a little more herself -- everything was already done; she didn’t need to be so sober anymore. They stumbled down a half-lit street, where, even in his drunkenness, Kaiba held her protectively in case of trouble. They giggled and tripped over one another checking into some ratty motel on some dank street corner.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in here,” he grumbled right to the receptionist, and he and Atem shared a laugh at the absurd irony of it all.

Before they’d even gotten into the room, he pinned her to the door. “_Kaiba,_” she gasped, pretending to be scandalized.

“Seto,” he mumbled, “call me Seto,” and the seriousness of his tone sobered her up nearly instantly.

They managed to open the door and close it and lock it behind them, and immediately after, they collapsed into a tangled heap on the bed. She pulled some toy metal cuffs from her handbag.

“I’m chaining you up, Mr. Kaiba,” she said slowly, seductively, eyebrow arching. “And you’re going to let me do it.”

He chuckled, rather drunkenly -- and rather cutely, if Atem were to be honest. “Okay.”

In his inebriated state, it was easy to flip him over, onto his back on the bed. She dragged his limp arms up to the rickety headboard and fastening him there. She sat back on her heels -- and on his pelvis -- to admire her handiwork.

“You’re so sexy,” he slurred. “Very sexy, Yami.”

She laughed, though genuinely pleased with the compliment. She leaned down, her lips hovering over his. “You’re very sexy, too, Seto.”

He hummed, head tilting to meet her for a kiss. “Your lips are so soft,” he murmured.

She giggled again. “I never pegged you for a sweet drunk.”

He sighed, then hiccuped. “You wanna know something?”

“What?” She sensually massaged his chest. He felt so firm, so good under his clothes.

“You’re really pretty when you smile,” he babbled, eyes closing. “You have the prettiest smile. Out of like, anyone. Ever.”

She stilled, face warm, but he wasn’t quite finished yet.

“I love it when you smile. I love making you laugh.” He sighed again. “It’s better than sex. Which is saying something. Because the sex with you is fucking stupid crazy good, you know?”

“Yeah…”

“I won’t be satisfied with anyone else ever again,” he said. “Can we have sex now, actually?”

She laughed, and watched his eyes open again and he smiled up at her in a rather dopey manner. 

“That was the plan, Seto,” she giggled, lowering herself down again for a kiss.

“Awesome.”

She peeled open his suit jacket and his shirt. His pale, toned skin peeked from beneath the layers of fabric. She rubbed her palms on him, mesmerized by the firmness and the smoothness of him, and he moaned happily all the while. The skin and muscles twitched and tensed under her tongue, and she laved gently at his nipple. He grunted, the chains rattled.

“You like that?” she murmured. “All the times we’ve fucked, you’ve always overwhelmed my defenses before I got the chance to really touch you.” She sucked it a moment, tasted his sweat and his skin and it all made her that much more ready.

“Yeah,” he groaned, long and deep. “Just wanted you to feel good.”

She kissed back up his sternum, to his neck, to his ear. “You make me feel _ so good_, Seto.”

“Good,” and he turned his head for a kiss. “Wanna make you feel good _ right now_.”

“Wow, even drunk off your ass you’re demanding as all hell,” she said with a giggle, even as she undid his belt and unbuttoned his fancy tuxedo trousers. 

“‘S just my personality,” he offered, as if it were some profound explanation.

“I’ve noticed,” and her words were nearly cut off by his drawling moan when her hand touched his bare, hot skin.

“God_damn_,” he growled. His hips were already bucking, motions that her own pelvis mirrored instinctually, churning on his lap.

“I’m going to ride you now,” she informed quietly, peeling her underwear off from under her dress and lining herself up with him.

“Do it, I dare you,” he hissed, words slurred, and then his head was thrown back on the dubious cheap motel pillows. “Jesus Christ, you feel g-good.”

She sat up straighter, kneading his chest, panting and sweating because he was right, it was already so damn good. 

This time, what could possibly be the last time, she let her tears flow freely. She normally ended up a crying mess by the time he was done with her, anyway, so she knew it wouldn’t draw too much suspicion. He was arching and supplicant beneath her, blue eyes rolling drunkenly, though she knew he was trying his best to keep them locked on her.

His slurred praises and hissed curses filled the room along her sobbing moans, and, before she knew it, she was riding him in a frenzy. Her hair lashed this way and that. Her dress was stuck to her skin with sweat. Red lines from her clawing nails were careening down his pale, torso.

He was drunk -- he really couldn’t last too long, and, in her emotional firestorm, neither could Atem. 

She wondered if this would be the last time she felt his heat in her.

He mumbled a few more things -- he was totally incoherent now, and she whimpered, pulling off him. Within a few seconds, he was passed out. She frowned, zipped his pants back up and moved him onto his side, though it was awkward with the cuffs still holding his arms to the headboard. She slipped the key under the pillow.

She petted his sweaty face, and bent to give him a slow kiss. 

“Come find me, Seto.”

* * *

A week turned into two, into four, into two months.

It shouldn’t have taken him that long. She’d left an obvious trail for him. 

More times than she would like to admit, she would dilute her tears in the shower.

Seto Kaiba didn’t want her.

She tried to choke down her sobs and know that she had to let him go.

She was in a small but quaint hotel outside of Reno, Nevada, when the program came on.

A KaibaCorp press conference. 

She scrambled for the remote, to turn it off, but then she _ saw _him. His suit was red, the color of blood -- the color she saw when she met her own eyes in the mirror every morning.

She’d _ never _seen him wear red before. 

She stood, frozen, as the press conference started, and he opened his voice. It was commanding, rolling like thunder through her speakers, even though he was only answering questions about upcoming tech that his company was on the verge of releasing. The wobbling in her knees felled her, and she sank onto the bed.

He sneered at a particularly -- well, _ dumb _ question, and Atem nearly swooned like a schoolgirl with a celebrity crush. 

She wasn’t listening to the exact words that were spilling from his lips, but she basked in the sound of his voice. She laid back on the bed and hummed with content. 

She couldn’t help but scrutinize the fact that he’d worn red and _ so much of it_. 

Was she being a little harsh on him? He was, after all, the president and CEO of a mega-conglomerate; he had a lot of work on his hands.

And he probably had a lot to catch up on after being distracted by a certain young woman for three weeks straight.

He’d come for her.

She held a hand to her glistening eyes. And though she was about to cry, something inside her steeled. A hard resolve was beneath those tears.

He’d come for her.

* * *

“Bandit” Keith Howard was a blithering idiot. His bandana was garish, his sunglasses -- indoors, Atem might add -- looked utterly ridiculous, and she’d met circus monkeys that could tell better jokes. 

But he was an arrogant, misogynistic pig, and he made a very easy target. Especially when she fluttered her eyelashes just so, or tittered thoughtlessly at his dull quips. She was working hard and working fast -- she had to get his money before his head got too big for his bandana and he wasted it all on a bad bet. She was doing him a favor, in all honesty. Better his money go to a charitable organization than to get in some other gambling addict’s pocket. 

Her only solace that night was her dress. Red and gold and tight, one of the several that Seto had purchased for her two months ago in this same city.

The cloud of cigar smoke gnawed at her lungs, but she withheld, smiling all the while -- stiff and fake, though this gaggle of “alpha” males didn’t seem to know any different. At least the banquet was about to start -- maybe some decent food could wash the smoke off her tongue.

The place was packed -- who knew professional poker was so _ popular_? -- so the tingling on the back of her neck that told her she was being watched didn’t surprise her. But it didn’t go away, it remained, growing more intense by the second, and she pretended to hide a giggle with her hand when Keith said something utterly ridiculous again, and then she saw them. First, those broad shoulders, cloaked in red, a different shade but still so telling, so vivid, and then the blue eyes that sucked her in like a vortex.

\-- Charybdis had nothing on those eyes --

The sneer on his handsome face was nothing like the one he wore on television and all too much like the one he wore when he was driving her mad with pleasure. 

Her breath caught, and she blinked. He whirled away, in that furious manner, and he was stalking out of the banquet hall.

She wasn’t sure what she murmured to Keith and his babbling entourage, but she somehow side-stepped his grasping hand and ignored his blurting questions, and she was drifting after Seto. 

Seto. Seto was here.

He came for her. Finally.

The pounding pulse in her ears blocked out all the other sound, and her vision nearly swam around her as she looked both ways down the hall.

That giant, red-clad frame storming off to her right was unmistakable. She hurriedly followed, her legs strutting fast to keep up with him. Thankfully, when they had meandered away, off to some secluded part of the building, he slowed down just a bit.

She recognized the set of his shoulders, the way he moved. The sexual tension in his stance was all but palpable.

She was following him to her sweet, _ sweet _ demise. 

He glanced over his shoulder, just briefly, just enough to catch a glance of her, and then he was ducking into a unisex bathroom. It was but a bare few seconds before she joined him. 

Once she cleared the doorway, he immediately palmed it shut with a _ bang! _ followed by the _ click _ of the lock engaging. 

Eyes wide, she met his gaze in the mirror above the lone sink. His eyes were wild, animal, crazed, and already her legs felt weak with desire. He snarled, pleased, and his voice rumbled from his chest in a deep growl, “Atem Muto. _ That’s _ your name. Your _ real _name.”

Oh god, her body had a trained response to that voice, and that response was _ prepare for hot sex_, so she couldn’t help the way her chest heaved with each breath, but she managed to keep herself firm when she nodded at his reflection.

He swayed closer, dangerous like a big cat, and she looked down to watch his big hands clutched the sink basin on either side of her. He wasn’t touching her, but his warmth flooded into her back and percolated to that space between her thighs. 

“You’re a clumsy thief; you were very easy to find,” he hissed, right next to her ear.

The inhale she took shuddered so hard it hurt, but some smugness still bled through her tone. “It still took you two months.”

Two long, painful, lonely months.

“Predicting where you would be next was the hardest part,” he replied. “There’s so many men out there for you to swindle, I couldn’t possibly guess who would be the next victim.”

She met his gaze in the mirror again. “What do you want, Kaiba? You could’ve simply stolen your money back. I know it would be easy for you.” She was proud of the way she kept herself cool and collected despite wanting to break down and beg him to fuck her and fuck her hard.

He hummed, a growling sound, and the lust in his blue eyes was unmistakable. “But that’s not what you wanted me to do, was it? Your paper trail was too obvious for that, Atem,” he cooed, almost mockingly. His tone, for some reason, only aroused her more. “And don’t forget the fact that you donated eighty-percent of my money to charity. Only a monster would steal it back.” He smirked at her, sharp and toothy and obviously on-edge and it was making her veins throb with anticipation. “What? Do you fancy yourself a modern femme-fatale Robin Hood? Rob from the rich… give to the poor. Though I don’t remember the part where Robin Hood fucks his marks for three weeks straight,” he snarled, and then he was roughly nuzzling the side of her face.

She trembled -- she felt like she was dealing with a wild animal and it was _ so damn hot _ \-- and she tipped her head to the side to give him access to her neck. Immediately, teeth were scraping across her sensitive skin. “I-I generally don’t fuck my victims.” He bit into her sensitive spot, and she gasped, jolting. “Y-You’re an exception.”

The only exception.

He moved his body closer, and they were brushing together, but it wasn’t enough. “Am I?” his words rumbled against her skin and brought up goosebumps. His lips were suddenly brushing her ear, his breath hot and damp. “Are you telling me that you aren’t sleeping with that blond oaf whose arm you were hanging on?”

If Atem weren’t so preoccupied with arching against him and tangling her hand in his silky hair, she would’ve laughed. “I would _ never _ sleep with the likes of him. Cocky bastards like that are always selfish lovers.”

He hummed again, and the sound rubbed her nerves in all the right ways, and his hand dropped to her hip to drag her up and back against him. He was already ready for her, and the sentiment had her moaning quietly. "Would he now?” he asked, mock-innocent, and then he thrusted once, hard, and she scrambled for purchase on the sink basin to keep herself from collapsing from the sheer heat wracking her body. “And what about _ me _was so different, hm?”

She was panting -- dear god, she sounded like he was _ inside her _ already -- and she answered with the first thing that came to her mind, the thought she had ruminated on the two months they had been apart. 

_ What had made Seto Kaiba different? _

“T-the way you looked at me. You wanted to --” her own gasp cut her off when his hips punched into hers again and pressed her in all the right places. “-- s-see me fall apart.”

One of the hands perched on her hip slid own until it was touching the bare skin of her thigh, nearly burning her with the heat of his palm, and then it was slithering up her skirt. “See, that’s where you’re wrong…” he whispered heatedly, eyes locking with hers in the mirror as his hand wandered up, up, _ up, _ and he was cupping her, his big hand cradling roughly her damp underwear, “I wanted to _ worship _ you.”

She mewled when his finger pressed _ hard_, and her knees trembled, and she knew it was only his grip on her most intimate area that was keeping her upright. “You d-don’t seem like the type.”

And she was right. 

He didn’t _ seem _like the type -- generally cold and aloof and standoffish, but all of their heated trysts told a different story. 

Like now, how his deft fingers were stroking her through her panties. “You see, when I _ really _ \--” he punctuated the word with a hard thrust against her, “-- like something, I will build fucking _ monuments _ to it.” And then lace was pushed aside and his fingertips were on her bare skin, and she couldn’t control how she turned into a bucking and melting mess under his touch. She couldn’t even feel how acutely her spine was arching, only that she could suddenly see all of his face, and not from looking in the mirror. He growled, and his fingers swirled against her in ways that made her vision burst into color behind her eyelids. “You didn’t have to fucking steal my money, Atem,” he snarled, harsh, when she scrambled back to claw at his belt. He slapped her hand away, and she nearly mewled when she heard him doing it himself. “Anything you wanted…” he met her eyes in the mirror as he clawed her panties out of the way. “...I would _ give it to you_.” And he thrusted against her again, but this time his bare skin was on hers, wet and sliding, and she found herself spasming and scrambling and mewling for him.

“K-Kaiba…” she gasped.

“Hn,” he grunted. “It _ feels _like you missed me as much as I missed you,” he hissed. He kept grinding against her, over and over again, and her brows were a knot in the center of her forehead, and he was pressing his face to her neck and choking on his moans.

“I--,” she cried out and arching in pain-pleasure. “I-I _ have_.” She shifted restlessly in a bid to get him _ inside _ like she had fantasized and dreamed about for two months without end. 

“Oh?” he groaned.

“I _ knew _ you would find me,” she moaned back. Their noises were like an erotic call-and-response in this cramped unisex bathroom. “I _ knew. _”

A snarl, entirely animalistic and sexual, tore from his chest and into her, and his fingers were claws on her hips. “Are you saying this is just one of your _ games_, Atem?”

“Ours,” she whimpered, and she had but to turn her head to meet his lips in a hot kiss. “_Our games._”

I knew, Seto. I knew you would play.

“Our games,” he whispered into her lips. “_Our _ games.” And she was crying in rapture when he finally gave her what they both wanted so badly.

“Oh, I _ missed _ you.” Her facade fell away, revealing the dark, lean animal underneath that wanted to rut with Seto Kaiba like there was no tomorrow. “Th-There’s no one like you.”

Each pump of his hips had her writhing, and she felt his eyes on her in the mirror. “D-Damn right.” Teeth at her ear. “_Hn_.” A hard, desirous bite at her neck that had her surging up on her toes. “S-so it was all a little breadcrumb trail…”

He was ruining her in all the right ways, hitting that one spot like he had a damn honing device strapped on, and she was crumpling and spasming and clenching harder at his hair. “Yes! All of it!” The heated confession rang off the walls surrounding them.”I’d… I’d given up hope, you t-took so long.”

And, reciprocating her fierce grip, he suddenly had a hand in her hair and was yanking and twisting her so deliciously for a hot, airy kiss. “What?” he hissed against her gasping lips. “You thought I’d let you go that easily?”

She whimpered. She couldn’t focus on conversation and meeting his ferocious thrusts at the same time. “No m-more words. Just fuck me.”

It only got better -- somehow, _ somehow _better and she wanted to tear her own hair out to try to cope with the agonizing pleasure. Like always, he destroyed her defenses in a very small amount of time. 

He was staring at her in the mirror, and she rolled her eyes to meet his, even if she wanted to squeeze them closed, and then he was snarling, like in her memories, like in her dreams, like in her fantasies when she was alone in bed and she touched herself to thoughts of him. He was red and sweaty and debauched and fucking her like his life depended upon it, and she could only surrender herself to him, offer up her body to feed his blistering sexual desire.

And somehow -- _ dear god, somehow _\-- he was thrusting harder and faster, and she was crying out, tears falling unnoticed down her cheeks. Her knees wobbled, and then they buckled, and she gasped in panic, but Seto had her, and he was sinking down with her.

And then he was _ gone, _ and she cried in protest, reaching back for him, but those strong hands on her whirled her around, spread her legs, and then he was inside her again.

Her cry was louder -- what those blue eyes did to her -- and she was wrapping her arms around his neck and it made him purr and growl and _ lunge_, and she was suddenly pressed to the wall and taking the brunt of his _ brute force_. 

He was close, close enough for their lips to brush with every punishing shove of his hips. 

_ Oh, god, _ she could taste his snarls on her tongue.

“S-Seto,” she mewled, feeling more tears trek down her face. “I’m --” but then her tongue was tied with pleasure and she could only mewl for him.

“I know,” he growled, _ of course he knew_, and he was suddenly touching her where she needed it most and she couldn’t take it anymore.

Her screams were silent in her straining throat, but through the liquid haze she saw his eyes roll back and he was thrusting hard and it _ hurt _ but it felt so damn good, and she felt his warmth blossom in her. “_Atem _…”

A few rocking thrusts and then they collapsed.

They caught their breath, or what they could of it, and then he was humming against her lips. “Two months without you is t-two months too long.”

She nearly melted, all of her doubts floated away and leaving nothing but air and euphoria behind. “Find me faster next time,” she giggled.

He growled, and it was hoarse and so _ sexy_. “You plan on ditching me again?”

She hummed playfully. “Mmm, maybe, if the sex is this fucking good every time I do it.” She rubbed their noses together and smiled, ecstatic. “Again, as I’ve said before, you keep rewarding my bad behavior with toe-curling, scream-my-lungs-out sex.”

Seto bucked against her, and she gripped his hair tight in response. “If I don’t satisfy you, you’d leave me. If I do satisfy you, you’d leave me. Can’t a guy win for once?”

“Hmmm…” She couldn’t stop the trembling in her finger, but it didn’t keep her from tracing the outline of his lips. “Maybe you’ll just have to get used to losing to me, Seto Kaiba.”

“Never,” he rasped vehemently. “I’ll win eventually. You can’t hold out forever.”

_ You already have won, _ she wanted to tell him, but she could only bring herself to kiss him.

His next words rumbled against her lips and made a shudder curl down her spine. 

“I’ll always chase you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooo. *wipes sweat from brow* What a workout. I was writing this like a typing monkey on crack, you guys.  
I know I’m supposed to let you guys go to ruminate on what you just read and -- probably, admit it -- read over your favorite steamy parts, but I would like to bring up two things.
> 
> 1) I know it probably seems like Atem is a little OOC in this (or maybe I’m being super critical of my own writing), but, given how Kaiba is continuously throwing her off her game, I thought it appropriate. Also, I haven’t quite divulged her background story yet. 
> 
> 2) Something I like to bring up every time I have a Seto-centric story is his fucking height. Listen to this, so, in the manga and the Japanese version of the anime, Seto is 16. And six-foot-one. That’s honestly massive. Especially since males don’t stop growing until they are like 25. And, many males typically experience another growth spurt right around 18 or 19. So, what I’m saying is, a fully-grown Seto Kaiba is like six-foot-five, if not taller. Fucking giant. Remember that before you decide to buy one as a pet.
> 
> Anyway, let me know if you like it and if you want a third part (this taking after these first two). Thanks for reading!


	3. Addicted to Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Decides to write one-shot**Oneshot ends up being 11,000+ words**Decides to write part two**Part two ends up being 12,000+ words**Decides to write part three**wonders how long it will end up being**watches in silent resignation as it climbs past the 12,000 word mark*  
Also, it seems that plot levels increase with each subsequent chapter. Hope you guys don’t mind. I’m generally not one for dense pondering, but broody Seto certainly seems like a dense pondering type. You’ll know what I mean when you get there. I think…?  
Also the part where Atem falls asleep a lot but whatever. 
> 
> Also, this is very lightly proofread. It's such a beast and a lot of material for me to cover on my own. Hope it's not too bad, though.

“S-Seto…” she mewled, clawing at the sheets, head hanging down. He growled, teeth gritting hard, and he tugged her into his last thrusts, her perfect hips in his clenching hands. She whimpered, thighs shaking, as she felt his heat in her. “Seto…”

“Fuck,” he hissed, head tipping back, eyes squeezing shut. “Goddamn, Atem.”

She bit her lip, backed herself up gently, and rode him through his orgasm. 

They slumped to the side, and Seto’s arms wrapped around her, fingers at her chin to tilt her up for a kiss. She hummed against his lips, carded his sweaty hair through her shaking fingers. 

“Best way to start the day,” she sighed, her breath quavering. 

He grunted, panted, nuzzled her jaw and planted tender kisses there. 

“You know, they say that people who have regular sex have extended lifespans,” she whispered with a chuckle.

“Well, shit. At this rate, we’ll be immortal,” he growled playfully. “Since you instigate at all hours of the damn day.”

“You’ve never turned me down,” she sang.

“Only a fucking idiot would turn _ you _ down,” he grumbled, pulling away from her.

She whimpered at the loss of heat and contact. “Seto…”

He groaned at her tone. “I have to get ready. I can’t spend all day in bed with you.” He turned away, to the bathroom, and his grumble of “No matter how much I wish I could” made her giggle breathlessly.

She closed her eyes and fantasized about it. She thought about their stay at the cabin in Washington state, about how she existed for those few days in an unrelenting haze of pleasure. His hands, his mouth, never leaving her body, existing for that time only to touch her. Pampered with ecstasy. Spoiled with sex. Intense carnal indulgence. Seto Kaiba was a god of stamina.

A sigh huffed from her lungs. Dammit. She was aroused again.

She rolled from her side onto her back, her hands caressing over her body. She turned her head, watched from behind the rumpled sheets as Seto prepared for a shower. His pale back was marked vividly with long pink lines from her clawing nails. His defined neck and collarbones riddled with hickies. Atem licked her lips. She made a mess of his perfect body. One of her hands strayed down, between her thighs. She was sensitive from orgasm, but she couldn’t stop herself from teasing the swollen flesh. She turned her head, whimpered into mattress as she bucked, thighs jumping.

Stomping steps, the mattress dipping as he climbed on. “Goddamnit,” he snarled, yanking her hands away from herself. “I swear you’re not content until you’ve had your brains fucked out.” He sank into the welcoming cradle of her hips. “Let’s make this quick, before I actually run late for my meeting.”

“Seto,” she moaned happily, raggedly.

He kissed her, fierce and _ pissed _ and desirous and somehow still so tender. 

She melted into a puddle of sensual delight. 

* * *

Aching and liquid and content, Atem laid on the bed. The sound of the shower thrummed away in the bathroom. If she’d had the energy to stand, she would’ve joined him. Even if he would have snarled at her for trying to distract him, she knew her presence would be welcomed.

But she didn’t have the energy to stand. So she stayed on the bed, the area between her legs throbbing like a second heartbeat. She loved every minute of it.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. 

The sound made a grin curl her lips. 

With a strained groan, she rolled and reached to grab the device off the nightstand. She giggled, rather evilly, and readily punched in the pass code. Mokuba’s birthday. Easy, especially since one could just Google it. 

She’d already bombarded his camera roll the other day. She nibbled her lip and opened the settings. She smirked upon seeing “Ringtone.”

After resetting his ringtone, she turned up the volume.

She could prank call him right in the middle of work.

With one last snicker, she set the phone down into its original position. With all hope, he’d not change the volume before she managed to call him. 

She groaned with pained delight as all her muscles trembled on her great stretch. The hardwood flow was cold under her bare, careful feet. Her thighs quivered when she stood, and she laughed at herself. Never before Seto had she nearly incapacitated herself with sex.

She couldn’t say she minded much.

So she hobbled to the bathroom door, cracked open to let the steam out -- it did so in wispy gray curls -- where the shower had fallen silent. She peaked in. Seto was toweling himself off. His body was flushed from the heat. Atem hummed appreciatively and stepped carefully into the room. He looked up, staring through locks of wet brown hair, and his eyes scanned her before he went back to his daily ablutions.

“I can barely walk because of you,” she teased in a sultry tone, and pulled another towel from the linen closet.

“Hn.” A purring, sadistic chuckle. “You deserve the pain. In fact, you were asking for every minute of it.” 

She smirked at him, over her shoulder and from behind her disheveled hair. “I _ did_, didn’t I?”

He passed by her on his way to the sink, and he swatted her ass playfully. “Yes, yes you did,” his voice was thick with amusement. “I remember it quite vividly.”

She managed to keep a relatively straight face, although her knees were weak from his mischievous strike. “You’ll have to remind me. I was rather… _ preoccupied _ this morning.” 

“I’ll say,” he mumbled. 

She chuckled, and set her towel on the rack. She turned the rather complicated knob on the faucet. The water was still warm from Seto’s shower. She blew the man in question a kiss before she slid the glass door closed. With the roaring shower heads, she barely heard the blow-dryer. Her sigh of contentment echoed off the tiled walls, and she basked in the liquid warmth before she began to actively scrub the sweat from her body. She had little marks all over her body, too -- little bruises from his clenching fingers, hickies from his lips, marks from his teeth, little red patches from rubbing on the sheets. 

She remembered how she once contemplated getting a tattoo. She liked these a lot better. It was too bad that they were impermanent. 

Her showers generally took longer than she’d like them to -- she had a great deal of hair to contend with, but it wasn’t too long before she was stepping out, skin flushed from the heat. She gave a rather rudimentary towel-dry to her hair, but there was only so much she could do with so much hair. Seto was dressed in his suit for the day. It was a slim black number that hugged his slender figure, and Atem found herself grinning like an idiot when she saw his ruby-red tie. 

He seemed to be all ready to go.

He was waiting for her to finish, since he had no further business in the bathroom. Still damp and disheveled, she padded up to him.

“Does this mean I get a good-bye kiss, Seto Kaiba?” she purred, dropping her towel and sidling to his front. The material of his suit was silky smooth under her sliding palms. She settled her hands on his shoulder and smiled coyly up at her lover.

Those blue eyes, dark and intense, stared down at her, and the expression on his stern, handsome face remained rather blank. But the way his big, warm hands settled on her waist and slid up, along her back to twine gently in her wet tresses said it all. “Hn,” he grunted, but he was leaning down, tilting her head up. His lips were soft, but still so passionate, and she lifted herself onto her toes to press more fully into him. 

“I’ll see you later, Atem,” he murmured, disentangling from her. She was sure there was a wet outline of her on the front of his suit. “Don’t cause any trouble while you’re out on the town.”

“‘Trouble’ is practically my middle name,” she said with a low, breathy giggle.

“I know. Which is why I should probably hire a security detail specifically for making sure you don’t end up in some compromising position somewhere,” he grumbled.

She purred her chuckle. “But, Seto, the only time I get into _ compromising _ positions is when _ you _ are involved.”

Those blue eyes narrowed dangerously, and Atem’s heart rate kicked up a few notches in response, but he only shook his head the slightest bit and turned away. 

She felt it on the tip of her tongue waiting to be called out, but she bit down on the words bubbling in her throat. Face flushed from more than the hot water, she turned away, to her hairbrush on the counter. 

_ Stupid, Atem. You’re an idiot. _

Seto Kaiba was not a man who dealt in ‘love.’ 

With a self-deprecating huff, Atem ran the bristles through her wet mane. 

She dressed rather casually -- something she did a lot more in the past three months of being in Seto Kaiba’s near-constant companionship. But rather than because of her growing comfort in his presence, she simply dressed that way today because she was only going to go meet an old friend. It’d been a while since she’d seen Mana, and she was looking forward to spending some time with her childhood friend.

Staring at the hickey on her collarbone in the mirror, she blinked slowly.

No more prowling through smoke-laden casinos. No more simpering smiles and beguiling tittering.

Not when Seto Kaiba was her willing victim. 

She chuckled quietly, eyes lowering as she wrangled her hair into a loose and wild braid. 

Right as she was snapping the tie on, her phone started ringing from in the bedroom. Maybe it was Seto, calling to berate her for 'meddling with his electronics’. She padded out, tossing her braid over her shoulder and picking up the wailing device.

**<3 Grandpa <3**

She gasped. Sugoroku _ hated _his cell phone and only used it for emergencies. 

"Grandpa? What's going on?" 

He held the receiver a little too close to his mouth -- his breath came over as an audible fuzz -- but Atem couldn't find it in herself to mind too much. "Yugi's in the emergency room."

She froze. Her heart felt like it stopped for the slightest second before kicking into overdrive. "_What_?" She took a deep breath to school her voice. "What happened to him?"

"His appendix burst. They're taking him in for emergency removal right now."

"Okay. I'm getting the next flight there," she said firmly. "I'll be there soon. I'll call you when my plane is about to take off."

"All right, sweetheart. Fly safe. I love you."

"I love you, too, Grandpa," she replied, and as soon as the call ended, she was looking up the next flight to Domino. 

She’d have to get ready right away to make it.

Quickly, she dialed Mana, who, of course, totally understood, and they fervently promised to one another to find a time in the future to meet up. 

Loading up a single bag to take with her -- she kept things at Yugi’s house to limit the amount she would need to drag around, she hailed a taxi and was on her way to the airport less than half an hour after receiving the phone call.

She swallowed thickly and dialed Seto. 

_ Ring. Ring. Ring. _

And he sent her to voicemail. He was probably in a meeting.

_ “If you don’t know who the fuck you’re calling, don’t even bother leaving a message.” _

_ Beep _

“I’m leaving for Domino City. Yugi is having emergency surgery, and I want to get there as soon as possible. I left most of my stuff at the suite, and I left my spare key on the counter. I know you’ll take care of it. Thank you. Anyway, I’ll call you when I land. I…” She swallowed. She had so much more to say. _ I love you, Seto_. “I’ll see you later, I suppose. Don’t have too much fun without me.” And she lingered awkwardly an extra moment before hanging up.

With a frown, she leaned her forehead on her palm.

“You should just tell him, hon,” the cab driver, a middle-aged woman said with a chuckle.

Atem laughed dryly. “I wish it were that simple.”

The woman chuckled. It was a raspy sound -- ragged from years of chain-smoking, probably -- but the maternal warmth in it positively glowed. “Don’t we all?”

Atem didn’t reply, only watched the traffic through the window.

* * *

For some reason, his phone began ringing in the middle of the meeting, and, for some reason, his phone was _ not _ on silent as it usually was, and, for some reason, someone had changed the ringtone from a generic one to a cheesy song from the ‘80s.

All of these reasons just so happened to be the same reason, and this reason’s name was Atem Muto.

He damn near jumped out of his skin when that jumping bass thrummed against his chest.

_ “Oh-oh, here she comes!” _

He scrambled to pull it out of his breast pocket as all the heads in the room collectively snapped toward him.

_ “Watch out, boy, she’ll chew you up!” _

If he were a lesser man, he would’ve grimaced, but no, he was Seto Kaiba, so he glared at them as if _ they _were in the wrong for staring at him

_ “Oh-oh, here she comes!” _

He finally managed to slip it free.

_ “She’s a maneater!” _

Surely enough, the contact photo showcased twinkling ruby eyes and pursed lips, as if blowing a kiss. One slender arm was extended up and out of the frame -- she’d taken his phone when he’d left it unattended and snapped an innumerable amount of pictures of herself when he wasn’t paying attention.

He’d kept all of them, and even emailed about half of them to himself. 

Blue eyes narrowed at the screen, and he swiped the red icon. That’ll show her.

He promptly put his phone on silent.

He should’ve known better than to give her his personal cell number, although she -- in all her admirable resourcefulness -- probably would have found it on her own.

It didn’t take long to get the meeting back on track, though several of the people sitting down at the table with him continuously threw him amused glances. Which he met with withering glares. He didn’t linger long when the meeting was over. “Send my paperwork to the office,” he said to the project manager as he left the room. 

His secretary for the New York location, Anita or Anna or something, trotted -- her too-high heels clomping loudly on the marble floor -- to keep up. 

“I didn’t take you for a Hall and Oates fan, Mister Kaiba,” she panted. Kaiba rolled his eyes; he could imagine the dopey flirtatious grin on her face. She was lucky she hadn’t been fired yet.

“I’m not,” he replied. “They’re over-used, derivative, and shallow.”

“Oh…” she murmured. But, of course, she wasn’t done flapping her gums. “Well, I just thought--”

_ Surprising_. “My significant other has sticky fingers, a propensity for meddling with my personal electronics, and a strange obsession with ‘80s cliches,” he replied coldly, though his lip curled up at the edge.

The pause in her stride was audible. “You have a girlfriend…?”

Kaiba sighed. “I find that term to be irritatingly juvenile.” Though Atem fit the definition of it perfectly. 

She took a deep breath, and Kaiba held up a hand. “This discussion is closed. My private life is by no means your business.”

“... You’re right. My apologies, Mister Kaiba.”

He didn’t meet that with a response, and instead continued walking. Her heels clomped after him at a considerably slower pace. At the threshold of his office, he lazily held out one hand, and Anita or Anna or whatever set the folder from the meeting onto his open palm. With a dismissive tilt of his chin, he stepped inside. The door closed with a firm click behind him. 

The folder landed on the glass desktop with a crisp _ slap_, but Seto was already taking out his personal cell and accessing his voicemail.

Atem’s voice carried easily over the speaker -- crystal clear, like she was talking right into his ear. _ “I’m leaving for Domino City. Yugi is having emergency surgery and I want to get there as soon as possible. I left most of my stuff at the suite, and I left my spare key on the counter. I know you’ll take care of it. Thank you. Anyway, I’ll call you when I land. I…” _ she trailed off, a frustrated huff of breath, and Seto felt his eyebrows drawing together. _ “I’ll see you later, I suppose. Don’t have too much fun without me.” _ There was a moment where she didn’t hang up, just a short, almost strangled breath, and then a click.

_ “Press one to delete, press two to save-- _

_ “Message saved.” _

Seto held his phone in his hand a moment, stared at it. 

For the first time in several weeks, he’d be eating alone. Sleeping alone. Waking up alone. Without Atem.

His sigh echoed in his office. She said she would call him when she landed, and, based on when she had left the voicemail and the sounds of traffic in the background, she’d probably already gotten to the airport and boarded her plane. 

He frowned, thumbed through his contacts. She was right at the top. He stared at her photo a moment. He pressed the call button.

The call immediately went to voicemail.

_ “You’ve reached Atem Muto. I can’t answer the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number I’ll be sure to get in touch with you as soon as possible. Thanks.” _

_ Beep _

“KaibaCorp Headquarters are in Domino City. I’ll be there by the end of the week. You could’ve called and arranged for my private jet to fly you there, you realize? I’ll be sure to bring all of your shit. And you know I’ll be bored out of my mind without you here to entertain me. By the way, the next time I find out you’ve been dicking around with my phone, you’ll be having my handprint etched onto your ass for a week.” He chuckled, a purring, sensual sound. “Behave. Call me when you land.” 

He hung up, and strode around his desk and sat with a sigh. Well, at least there was nothing keeping him from staying late and getting ahead on work.

Maybe he’d be able to leave New York early.

* * *

The seven hour flight was nearly torturous, and she ended up playing over two dozen games of tic-tac-toe with the little boy in the seat next to her. She dreamed about the damn game when she managed to fall asleep in the uncomfortable seats. With the last minute purchase of a ticket, only the crappy seats were left. But Atem couldn’t complain too much. She nibbled on some of the snacks provided by the flight attendants, and, noticing her lack of appetite, the little boy offered his own food. Which Atem politely declined. 

But she spent most of the flight thinking. Yugi’s appendix burst. Which meant immediate surgery. What she gleaned from various websites on her brief search on the remainder of the cab ride and while waiting to board the plane, they’d have to not only remove the appendix but clean the surrounding area in his abdomen to prevent further infection. 

She frowned out the window. 

Generally, appendicitis showed numerous symptoms before the appendix actually burst. 

Which meant Yugi had been sick but ignoring his symptoms. 

She sighed and rolled her eyes. That was just like him -- ignoring his own problems, hiding them with a bright grin. Though perhaps he’d thought he only had a stomach flu, from what she’d read on the symptoms. 

Either way, Atem was not pleased. He should’ve seen a doctor.

But he was stubborn.

Atem sighed again, a little more exasperatedly, and rubbed her forehead. Apparently, all of the men in her life were stubborn. The bastards.

Which brought her around to Seto. She pursed her lips, and jumped when she felt pressure on her shoulder. The little boy next to her had fallen asleep, his head lolling onto her arm. His mother, in the next seat over, winced at her and mouthed “sorry.” She extended her arm to move her son but Atem only shook her head with a small smile.

“It’s fine. Let him rest.”

She looked down at the peaceful face of the little boy.

She wanted her own children, someday. She’d never thought she would really end up having any -- not with how she lived her life, it just wouldn’t have been responsible. But, with Seto… She bit her lip and looked away. Three months of being in… a relationship (if what they had even counted as one) was too little to start thinking about these things.

But Seto Kaiba clearly didn’t buy into the whole “love” bit, and seemed even less inclined to the idea of children. She wondered -- with short, heavy breaths and stinging eyes -- if he even felt anything for her besides just this sexual infatuation. He was doting, yes… but… She fiddled with her braid. She was _ in love _with him, that much she knew. More than what she had felt for any man ever. She loved his laugh, his mocking chuckles, his dry, sarcastic voice and deadpan humor, and his mile-wide competitive streak. And that damn stubbornness. She loved how he moved and how he breathed and how his fingers twitched when he was thinking and his sleepy sighs as he fell asleep with her in his arms. The way his fingertips idly traced whatever bare skin he could reach, how his lips settled so perfectly on her neck, how he brushed the blond bits of her hair from her face to see her eyes more clearly.

She was hopelessly in love with everything he was and everything he did.

Six months ago, when she’d met his blue, _ blue _ eyes from across a poker table, she’d thought he’d be her victim. But somewhere along the way, the tables turned, and she found herself so wickedly enthralled by Seto Kaiba. 

When she looked out at the blue sky -- so pale compared to those vivid irises -- she wondered if she’d stupidly set herself up for the biggest heartbreak of her life. 

* * *

“Grandpa, I just landed. I’m on my way to the hospital,” she said quietly into the phone.

“Alright, dear. Yugi’s been out of surgery for a while. He’s asleep. They’ve got him on some antibiotics. But he should be able to come home tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” and Atem sagged with relief. “I’ll see you when I get there.” She shouldered her carry on bag. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Atem. See you soon. Be safe on your way here.” 

“Will do.” And the call was over, and Atem called her voicemail.

_ “You have one unheard message.” _

_ “KaibaCorp Headquarters are in Domino City. I’ll be there by the end of the week. You could’ve called and arranged for my private jet to fly you there, you realize? I’ll be sure to bring all of your shit. And you know I’ll be bored out of my mind without you here to entertain me. By the way, the next I find out you’ve been dicking around with my phone, you’ll be having my handprint etched into your ass for a week.” _ His chuckle sounded just as seductive over the phone, and Atem felt her face flush. _ “Behave. Call me when you land.” _

_ “Press one to delete--” _

_ “Message saved.” _

She paused a moment, her thumb hanging over the little green button, but thought better of it and continued her departure from the Domino City Municipal Airport. A taxi was a little easier to hail here, and she eagerly climbed in. “Domino City Central Hospital. Thank you.” 

And she pulled out her phone again. When she unlocked it, it was his contact. The picture she’d supplied had been one she’d snuck while he was asleep (well, more like passed out from exhaustion after one of their sexual marathons). His mouth was hanging open, his hair unbelievably disheveled, his lips swollen, his pale neck littered with hickies. With a chuckle, she pressed the green button.

_ Ring. Ring. Ri-- _

“Atem_, _” his gruff voice rumbled through the receiver and into her ear. Atem shivered.

“Seto,” she echoed playfully. “I’m in a taxi on the way to the hospital right now.”

“What happened to your brother_ ? _”

“His appendix burst. He’s apparently already out of surgery. He should be able to come home by tomorrow.”

_ “ _ Hn_. _ ” She could hear the faint, rhythmic sounds of typing coming from his end before he continued. “He’ll be back to normal functionality in two-to-four weeks _ . _”

She chuckled. He’d looked it up. “Yeah. Though I’m sure he’ll be hopping around in less time. The man ignores all his limitations. Like _ someone _ I know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sniffed haughtily. “This person you know probably doesn’t have limitations.”

Atem laughed quietly. “I’m sure.”

He huffed out a breath, and it sounded suspiciously similar to a sigh. “The bed is going to be cold tonight. And I purchased enough food to feed two people.”

She smiled, shyly, despite all they’d done together and to each other. “I’m going to miss you, too, Seto.” The chuckle that left her next was entirely mischievous. “You could always invite Adrianna over for dinner. I know how much you love her company.”

“That’s not an option. I’m not entirely certain that that’s her name. And I don’t fucking care, either,” he said with a derisive snort.

“You don’t care about your employees, Mister Kaiba?” she cooed. 

“I don’t care about _ that _ employee. I deal with enough infatuated lushes at conventions and parties,” he grumbled. 

“What about _ this _ infatuated lush?” she purred.

“Mm, I wouldn’t classify you as a ‘lush.’ Definitely more along the lines of ‘wicked succubus,’” he commented dryly. But then he was rumbling right back, tone dropping seductively. “And I certainly don’t mind your attention on me.” His voice growled from between his teeth, and the sound alone made all of Atem’s nerves stand at attention. “That time back in Vegas, with that moronic poker player. Seeing your hands on him nearly drove me mad,” he admitted. 

“Oh, Seto. You don’t have to worry about other men. None of them could ever compare to you,” she whispered, playfully ingratiating but still genuine. “Does the promise you made in your voicemail still hold water?”

“Hn. Which one? I remember making several.”

“The one about the phone and the handprint.” She watched her words, careful of the ears of the cab driver, but a note of her sultriness still bled through.

“Oh, definitely. _ Definitely_.”

“You’re always giving me incentive to do bad things,” she whispered.

“Maybe that’s my intention, now.”

The cab turned a corner, and Atem blinked. “I’m almost to the hospital.”

“Hn.” A soft, reluctant breath. “Be sure to call me again. Or I’ll call you.” A pause. His next words were so low, so soft, so _ fond _ they caught Atem’s breath in her throat. “Behave, Atem.”

“I will. Don’t stay at the office too late, Seto,” she whispered back. “Make sure you get plenty of sleep.”

“Mm. We’ll see about that.”

She chuckled, airy. “I’ll talk to you later, Seto.”

“You better.”

With no small amount of hesitation, she ended the call. She paid her cab fare with a polite smile and quickly stepped out, shouldering her backpack. With a faint huff of breath, she entered the hospital.

* * *

Seto leaned back in his chair. Reflexively, subconsciously, he carded his fingers through his hair. It was getting dark outside the windows, but still he plugged away at paperwork and blueprints that required his signature. _ Make sure you get plenty of sleep_. Her soft voice echoed in his head, a phantom in his ears. As if. Atem was the only thing that managed to keep him on a regular sleep schedule. Without her, lying in bed held no appeal. No warmth, no comfort. No incentive. The thought made him chortle a little. He’d known her brother and grandfather lived in Domino City -- it was one of those things she had left him to discover in her little breadcrumb trail, but the implications never hit him as hard as they did then.

She could meet Mokuba.

Mokuba would love her. He’d probably shit bricks when Seto actually brought a woman home. 

He could meet _ her _ family.

She could come stay in the Kaiba manor.

The thought of her, her presence so loud and bold yet so quiet and graceful, trailing about those pristine halls brought gooseflesh to Seto’s skin. The thought of her lying in _ his _ bed, tangled in _ his _ sheets, to stain permanently with the memory of her, the essence of her that would never leave no matter how many times they were washed. The thought of her padding into _ his _ office, clad in his shirt -- as she was so fond of doing -- her hand lingering on the doorframe, head tilting that way it does, her ruby eyes sparkling as she used her irresistible siren call to lure him to bed.

_ Her voice _, echoing along the solemn vaulted ceilings and off the stately Classic columns, alighting those cool walls with warm color.

Breathlessly, he grasped the armrests of his chair in white-knuckled hands. 

He _ wanted _ it. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever wanted something so much, and it frightened him. His heart galloped away in his chest, the air heaved from his lungs like waves battering a cliff face. 

The six months were almost up. It’d be Mokuba’s turn next, to travel the country and the world. He was so much better at buttering up the affluentials and the silver-spooners. Yet still, he insisted Seto too do his part to mingle. Mokuba was social, but he couldn’t handle the pretenses as well as the older brother. But soon, it would be his duty, and Seto would remain at headquarters to run everything.

Would Atem even _ want _ to remain sedentary? She happily accompanied him on his travels -- enthralling all who met her and making them a tad bit more agreeable, but maybe when that was no longer on the table, she would dash off, once again a lone wolf on the prowl for vulnerable prey.

He turned in his chair, looked over New York City, stained by the fading colors of a dying dusk.

He’d thought about it, too many times. 

Marrying Atem, taking her as his wife, as if that would cement his place at her side. One of the few places he felt he truly belonged. Perhaps a grand wedding, with ice sculptures and the best orchestra money could buy. Or maybe something small, private, intimate, before he’d sweep her off her feet and take her to some secluded tropical paradise or perhaps some serene mountainside in Europe for weeks and watch with no small amount of interest as she perused local fabrics with something akin to childish delight, or as she hummed pleasantly at the taste of authentic cultural cuisine, or as she looked out on the rolling landscapes in wonder -- because as much as she pretended to be a material person, it was her senses that she tried so desperately to feed.

He recalled in a vivid flash the dance in the rain, the slow, consuming intimacy they had shared, drenched in nature. Everything about her evoked an image of some ethereal animal, darting through ferns and peering with innate curiosity and intelligence at the world around her. Even her voracious libido, so hungry to indulge in pleasure with him, so eager to surrender herself to him and the sensations he so willingly provided. She was, in the strangest sense, wildly hedonistic. And he wanted that, all for himself, and him all for her.

But never had he met so free a creature that was also willing to settle down. To be tied to anything, let alone him.

The important people in his life generally didn’t make a habit of sticking around.

Why would Atem be any exception?

_ I’ll always chase you _, he had said after their torrid reunion. 

But even the ever-stubborn Seto Kaiba wouldn’t chase unwilling prey.

* * *

Sugoroku gave his granddaughter a tight hug the moment he saw her. Atem laughed breathlessly, and eagerly hugged him back. Like always, he smelled of Old Spice and gently-used books. “Hi, Grandpa,” she greeted, still wrapped up in his affection.

“My, you’ve grown so big,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“Grandpa, I haven’t grown an inch in thirteen years,” she chuckled.

“I still think of that sweet little girl when I think of you,” he admitted tenderly. They parted, and Atem moved closer to the bed.

Yugi was sleeping soundly. He admittedly looked pale and haggard.

“It really did a number on him,” she murmured, brushing his hair -- the front bits blond like hers -- out of his face. 

“He was sick for some days. He thought it was only an intense stomach bug,” Sugoroku informed.

Atem nodded. “I figured as much. When I looked up the symptoms for appendicitis, it fit some of the criteria.” She frowned. “Although, with the severity, he still should have thought to go to a doctor. The average stomach flu does not hit quite as hard as this. _ I _certainly would have felt some concern.” She shook her head, her braid swaying between her shoulderblades. “But Yugi is as stubborn as they come.”

“He kept insisting that he was fine. It makes it damn near impossible to really guess how he’s feeling.”

“That’s his worst habit,” Atem said sternly, as if Yugi could hear her reprimanding him, but her hand in his hair was tender. 

“When he started to physically show that he was not doing as well as he claimed, that’s when I knew something was wrong. But I couldn’t get him to go to the doctor. In my state, it’s not like I could force him to go,” he said with a sheepish chuckle.

Atem pursed her lips and sighed. Reluctantly, she drew her hand away from his hair and took a seat. Sugoroku sat beside her, and she eagerly leaned her head on his shoulder with another sigh.

“How’s the boyfriend?” he asked.

Atem jerked her head to look up at his laughing violet eyes.

“Yugi told me that you finally found someone,” he supplied. “I was starting to get worried. Between the two of you, it seemed like I would _ never _get any great-grandchildren.”

Atem laughed, a little stiffly. “It’s… it’s not like that, Grandpa.”

“Why ever not?”

“... It’s complicated.”

“Well, simplify it, dammit. I want great-grandchildren before I die.”

“Look, it’s not my fault you had only one son and two grandchildren. From a biological perspective, that was just idiotic if you’re so focused on having your genes continue through the generations.”

“Well, it was a trade-off. Have few offspring and devote more time to raising them, thus ensuring their survival, or have more offspring with a higher chance of them dying from neglect,” he joked.

“I’m sure increasing your brood size by one would not have done Dad any harm.” 

Sugoroku laughed. “You’d be surprised. Your father was pretty demanding as a child.”

“You still managed quite well,” Atem said quietly. “You did well raising Yugi, too.”

No matter how well Sugoroku had raised his son, he couldn’t save him from bronchial adenoma. It just wasn’t natural for children to die before their parents.

Sugoroku only hummed, and somehow they both knew that they had both started thinking about that one person.

“Have you heard from her lately?” Sugoroku asked quietly.

Atem snorted. “She hasn’t tried to contact me in years. I know she probably hasn’t tried to contact Yugi even longer.”

“She is your mother, you know. You may regret allowing this distance to grow.”

Atem’s lips screwed together tightly, a rather sour expression. “She can go fuck herself. She made her priorities clear ages ago.”

Sugoroku hummed again but made no argument -- they both knew she was right. He smartly decided to change the subject. “They only allow for one overnight guest,” he mentioned off-handedly. “I know you’re probably tired from the long flight. You should go home and get some rest.” 

Atem rested her head on his shoulder again. “No. I slept on the plane. I probably won’t be able to sleep so well tonight, anyways. Your day was longer than mine. I can stay here and make sure Yugi doesn’t try to use his doe eyes to convince the nurses to discharge him early.”

Sugoroku laughed. “He would do that, wouldn’t he?”

“You know it. Like that one time he threw up at school and tried to convince the school nurse to let him go back to class. And it nearly worked, if Dad hadn’t shown up in time to toss Yugi over his shoulder and carry him out,” Atem said with a snicker. 

“He got sick three times later at home,” Sugoroku recalled with a shake of his head.

“Even at eight years old, he was a stubborn bastard,” Atem huffed.

It seemed like the stubborn ones made the best ones, she thought with no small amount of fondness, since it took some more verbal acrobatics to convince her grandfather that she should be the one to stay that night.

Darkness eventually crept over Domino City. And Atem -- despite all her claims that she was, in fact, not tired -- fell asleep, her head on the edge of Yugi’s hospital bed.

* * *

The suite was quiet. Eerily so. Coldly so. A majority of Atem’s belongings were still there -- her hairbrush on the bathroom counter, her clothes lined up in the closet, a pair of shoes by the door. At least something to convince Seto that she was real, and that she had been there. He sniffed, a quiet sound, and drifted from room to room just to see the evidence of her existence. Finally, he ended up in the bedroom. He sat on the bed, brushed his hands over the blankets. She must’ve changed them, and when Seto laid himself down, surely enough, they smelled like detergent and fabric softener. 

He sighed into the material.

He unwound himself and stood again. He drifted to the hamper. Pursing his lips at his own ridiculous behavior, he dug through the clothes. But he found it. One of his silk dress shirts. It was blood red, a shade deeper than her eyes. He lifted it to his face, felt the smooth, buttery material on his cheeks, and took a deep breath.

Mixed in with the scent of his cologne, there resided something fruity and a little floral. 

She liked to wear his shirts. Especially if he had already worn them.

When he dressed for the night, he wore some ratty sweatpants and a red silk dress shirt. 

* * *

Atem woke to maniacal giggling and a hand petting her hair. Groggily, she blinked and sighed, and her lungs were filled with the scent of antiseptic and other good ol’ hospital smells. 

“Yugi…?”

He smiled down at her. The expression was rather dopey from the effects of pain-killers, and his violet eyes had a faint drug-induced haze. “Yeah?” That’s when she noticed her phone in his other hand. 

She bolted up. “Give me that!” She was too swift for his drug-addled reflexes, and soon enough she was able to survey the damage that he had done.

The screen was opened to her text messages. 

**:-* Seto :-***

“Yugi…” she groaned. “What did you do….”

She looked down.

Yugi had sent Seto several photos. Most of them were half-baked, blurry selfies, but the very last one was Atem, sleeping peacefully, though in a rather awkward position, with her head on her folded arms on Yugi’s bed. 

“You’re so _ cute!” _ Yugi slurred, eyes rolling deliriously.

“You little shit…” she laughed, palm to her forehead, elbow on his bed, as she scoured everything else for any other damage he’d managed to make. It seemed like he’d only gotten to do that much before his own mischievous giggling had awoken her. “How did you even get it unlocked in your state?”

“Skill. Pure skill. And lotsa determination.” He let his eyes fall shut. “I had to put it in like, five million times.”

“You’re such a butthead,” she growled. Now Seto was going to wake up to a barrage of loopy Yugi selfies and a picture of her drooling all over herself. 

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh. If you weren’t we wouldn’t even be in this situation,” she teased. “Why didn’t you go to a doctor sooner, Aibou?”

“I was _ fine _ ,” he said, sloppily waving a hand. “I’m _ still _ fine.” He lolled his head to one side to look at her. “Do you think we can leave yet?”

“_ No. _”

He scowled at her. “What’s with the attitude?”

Atem laughed, half at his expression and half at his words. “You just got an actual organ removed, Yugi. And when that organ burst, it had sprayed pus all over your insides. They are _ not _ going to let you leave yet.”

His face scrunched up. “Ew.”

“Yeah, _ ew _.”

He sniffed, his nose wrinkling. “Well, at least it was nice of you to show up at my deathbed.”

Atem scoffed at him. “One moment you’re fine, the next you’re at your deathbed.”

“Perception is reality, Atem,” he muttered cryptically.

“Okay, I think your dose is too high,” she laughed. “I don’t think it’s normal for you to be this loopy so long after surgery.”

“I’m not loopy,” he insisted, though all of his words were strung together as one long slur. “I’m functioning perfectly.”

She shook her head and made to stand. She went to turn away, to stretch her legs and her aching back, and when she heard the hospital blankets shuffle, she quickly whirled around and snatched her phone off his bed. “No.”

“But I’m _ bored _.”

“Then go to sleep!”

“‘Kay.”

She glanced over her shoulder before leaving the room. Sure enough, Yugi was nodding off.

She ambled down the hall and pulled her hair tie from her severely-disheveled braid. With a sigh, she shook her hair out. Her phone vibrated in her hand.

**:-* Seto :-***

_ ‘What the hell?’ _

She bit her lip on a giggle and waited until she was at the vending machines to reply.

_ “Sorry. Yugi got ahold of my phone while I was sleeping.” _

Smiling, she perused the vending options. They had packaged blueberry muffins. Healthy? Probably not. Tasty? Atem was about to find out. As she was digging out her wallet, her phone buzzed.

_ ‘Now I have scientific evidence that your obsession with messing with other people’s electronics is genetic.’ _

She laughed, damn near dropping her wallet. She quickly typed back a reply. _ “Correlation does not equal causation, Seto.” _

She fed a bill into the machine and glared at the corkscrew holding her snack in place as it spun. “Damn right, drop my muffin,” she muttered as the package fell to the bottom. 

_ Bzt _

_ ‘It might as well. What are you doing to keep yourself occupied?’ _

She sat on the edge of one of the nearby chairs and opened the package. _ “I got a muffin out of the vending machine.” _ She set her phone to the side and held the snack up to be examined.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately. She picked it up.

_ ‘Disgusting _.’

_ “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” _

She bit into it. It was… mediocre. She tried to quell her disappointment. It was, after all, a vending machine muffin.

_ ‘How is it, then?’ _

_ “It’s very moist. And not in the good way.” _

She hurriedly ate it, though, and tossed the package away. She stopped at a drinking fountain for a couple of gulps of water and then returned to Yugi’s room. 

A nurse was in there, checking up on the patient, and Yugi was awake again, and trying to bargain his way into getting discharged early.

“Do me a solid, okay? You seem like a cool dude, Joshua, a dude who would do anything to help a friend. Do you consider us friends, Joshua?” he slurred as the man, apparently named Joshua, took his vitals and checked his IV.

“Yugi…” Atem sighed, making her way in and to her seat. “Leave the poor man alone. He isn’t going to let you leave.”

“But I feel fiiiiine.”

“That’s because you’re hopped up on crazy strong pain-killers,” Atem replied. “Of course you feel fine. Anybody would feel fine with that much morphine pumped into their veins. I bet you feel amazing right now, actually."

Yugi looked back to the nurse. "See? Even Atem agrees. I feel amazing. I should go home."

"That's not what I meant." She looked to the nurse. Sure enough, his name-tag read 'Joshua.' "I don't feel like this is a normal reaction."

Joshua chuckled, gently pushed Yugi's grabby hands off his arms as he kept insisting that he should be at home. "It's not. He's probably having some sort of reaction. Based on the color of his urine and his vitals, he's perfectly fine, otherwise. I paged his doctor and requested that we switch his medication. Does he have any allergies to antibiotics that we might not have known about?"

"Not that I know of," Atem admitted, and she stood and delicately plucked Yugi's hands away from the nurse. "Yugi, stop. You're being very rude right now."

Yugi whined. "Sorry."

"Hands to yourself," she whispered as she let his hands fall out of hers.

"You're not a very nice sister," Yugi mumbled. "You're great, though. I love you."

Atem sighed again. "I love you, too, Aibou."

Joshua was penning some things down onto his clipboard. "Are you two twins?"

"No," Atem answered, rolling her eyes at Yugi as he occupied himself with her hair. "I'm older by three years."

"Well, it's easy to see that you're related," the nurse chuckled.

"Hey," Yugi drawled. "You hitting on my sister? She's taken, y'know? _ Spoken for _."

"Yugi," Atem hissed, feeling her cheeks immediately alight with heat.

"Her boyfriend is _ hot _ and _ rich _and he'd do anything for her, right, Atem?" He babbled.

"You haven't even met him," Atem muttered. "Please stop."

"Only because you said 'please,'" and he let his head loll and his eyes flutter shut.

“You are obnoxious on morphine,” she grumbled, and gave the nurse an apologetic look even as he chuckled and smiled light-heartedly.

“No. _ You’re _ obnoxious while I’m on morphine,” he retorted, eyes still closed and chin on his collarbone.

“Okay, sure. Because that makes sense,” Atem replied. “Get some more sleep, Yugi.”

“You’re not my real mom.”

“Jesus Christ, go the fuck to sleep, Yugi.”

* * *

_ It’s very moist. And not in the good way.’ _

_ “I don’t know what you were expecting.” _

Seto snorted, and scrolled back up to see the very last photo Yugi had apparently taken and sent. Atem was resting in such a strange position, but his lips twitched up at the side of her disheveled hair. It looked like it was supposed to be braided, but the wild dark strands were escaping and falling about her shoulders and face. He rubbed his fingertips together, imagined the texture of a lock between the pads of his fingers, along the palm of his hand. He pressed his thumb to the image and held it there for a couple of seconds.

_ Image saved _

He leaned back in his chair, one ankle propped on the other knee. He was in his office at KaibaCorp New York. Without any distractions at the suite, he’d managed to make it in early. 

But, strangely, he had no motivation to get anything done. 

He scrolled back to the bottom of the chat. Atem had not yet texted him back. His sigh lifted his shoulders, and he rubbed his face with his free hands.

Pathetic. Waiting on her message like a mutt waiting for scraps. 

With another growling sigh, he tossed his phone onto his lap and tried to get back to the paperwork sprawled on his desk and the emails clogging his computer screen. Some idiot made a severe mistake on one of the reports, and his fury and swiftly typing fingers did well to distract him for the next fifteen minutes, but, as soon as the well-worded but wrath-filled email was zipping along the interwebs to its intended recipient, his hand was subconsciously reaching for the device resting on his thigh.

No response.

He was about to go back to delving through electronic files when --

_ Bzt _

_ ‘You’re right. I need to manage my expectations better.’ _

He chortled, and was about to type something in response but --

_ ‘Sorry about the time gap. Yugi was being an obnoxious imbecile. He should never have morphine ever again. He was trying to convince the nurse to discharge him early, and then accused the man of hitting on me when he asked if we were twins.’ _

_ Bzt _

_ ‘He wasn’t hitting on me, though. Yugi is just delusional.’ _

Seto snorted. He sighed through his nose, his thumb hovering over the little digital keyboard. He ran his other hand through his hair.

_ “Video chat?” _

_ Bzt _

_ ‘Mmhm. Let me get to the waiting area. Yugi just fell asleep and I don’t want to disturb him.’ _

Seto’s lips twisted.

_ “Hurry.” _

The tapping of his fingers on his arm rest filled the air, drowned out the faint buzz of electricity and ambient hum of the central ventilation system. The trilling of his phone soon cut above it all.

Within seconds, Atem was filing his screen. Her hair was in disarray, though it seemed as though she had tried her best to tame it with swipes of her fingers. The area around her eyes was puffy with sleepiness, but those red irises were still so clear and vivid. She blinked, her lips curling into a sanguine smile. 

Something in Seto’s chest twinged.

“Are you at the office right now?” she asked, tsking. She turned her head. “Isn’t it like seven in the morning there?”

He chuckled, smirking. “You do realize that when you aren’t there to drag me back to bed, this is the time I’m _ normally _ in?”

She simpered, a purring laugh, eyelids lowering. “Don’t act as if you don’t like it. You seem more than eager to join me in the sheets each and every time.”

Heat coiled in Seto’s belly. “Hn, I think I’ve mentioned before that only an idiot would turn you down, Atem.” He intently watched her laugh with genuine humor. “I can’t wait for this week to be over,” he said, mostly to himself.

She smiled, not a sensual grin or a smug smirk, but that sanguine tilt, her eyes molten. “I miss you, too, Seto.”

Seto gulped, and hoped she didn’t see it. Jesus Christ, he had the most enchanting woman to ever breath on his phone screen. “I want you to meet my brother,” he said, voice firm although something inside him was trembling and jittery and on the verge of collapse. “I want you to come stay at the manor with me.”

Her lips parted, her eyes widened, and she seemed frozen for a moment, and he feared that the feed was lagging, or, worse yet, that he had said the wrong thing. But then her lips, so soft-looking even through a camera, curled into a smile that made his breath catch in his throat and his heart palpitate beneath his ribs.

“I would love to do both of those things,” she breathed. “For how long?”

Seto rolled his tongue around in his mouth, but it didn’t seem to help -- it was still far too dry. “As long as you want. I’ll be returning to Domino for the next six months. Mokuba will be traveling in my stead.” 

She chuckled, her head tilting, a mischievous edge to the gleam in her eyes. “Seto Kaiba, are you asking me to move in with you?”

He snorted, but his ears were hot, and it was quickly climbing to his cheeks. “I didn’t ask you anything.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, shifting, her hair sliding around her shoulders. “But it was implied.” Her smile shifted into a wicked grin. “I’m surprised that the man who insists that I’m a ‘distraction’ has invited me to stay at his home for an undisclosed amount of time.”

Seto gritted his teeth. Cheeky vixen. “A _ welcome _ distraction, but, yes, a distraction.”

“I like distracting you,” she cooed, resting her cheek on her palm. 

“I know,” he growled back. “Trust me, I know.”

“You make it so easy,” she simpered. “Just a touch here, a look there. It’s so easy to rile you up. And so very fun."

It was true. Every bit of contact was like an unspoken challenge, and Seto Kaiba never left a challenge unmet. Especially one from Atem Muto. A snarl rumbled in his chest. “You’re starting this up at the wrong time, Atem.” 

That face, so sensual, _ wanting _. “It’s never the wrong time to start you up, baby,” she purred.

“You’re going to fucking get it,” he hissed. 

“Mm, I can’t wait,” she whispered back, winking and puckering her lips momentarily.

He grit his teeth. “Cheeky bitch.”

“Indeed.” She paused a moment. The intensity of her eyes threatened to burn him to ash right where he stood. “_ Your _ cheeky bitch.”

“Damn straight.”

And she beamed, and he felt everything that he had doubted fall to ashes at his feet. By god, he was going to get a ring on her damn finger as soon as possible.

* * *

Around six in the morning, Atem managed to fall asleep in Yugi's room again (this time, her phone secured in her backpack). It took some time, between grinning like a damn idiot and sighing like a daydreaming school girl. 

** _Your_ ** _ cheeky bitch. _

_ Damn straight. _

Maybe there was hope, after all.

She fell asleep with her lips quirked into a smile.

* * *

The mattress depressed under her slight weight, and the the air squeezing out of her pillow matched her sigh as she snuggled into the blankets of her childhood bed. 

Due to his strange reaction to the morphine, the hospital decided that they would be keeping Yugi for observation for another day. His blood tests came back with no further sign of infection (Atem had nearly tipped over with relief at the news). Sugoroku had decided that he would stay that second night. Yugi seemed to have been over his loopy phase after they switched his pain medication. Which was fortuitous, because Atem doubted Sugoroku would have had as much energy to deal with a doped-up Yugi as she had. The old man was of waning stamina and growing fatigue in recent years. 

Atem moaned, a little in pain and a little in delight as her spine protested being laid down so comfortably after so many hours of discomfort. Her toes curled happily, and she burrowed more deeply into the blankets.

The only thing missing was a big, warm Seto to cuddle with. 

With her sleepy mind spinning away with delirious fantasies of his scent and his heat, she drifted off into a deep slumber. 

* * *

Her phone’s shrill wailing startled her from her sleep, and she jerked from the mattress with a gasp. She scrambled about, slapping her hand on the nightstand, and just barely registered that it was three in the morning, according to the digital clock there. 

**:-* Seto :-***

Frowning, her heart pounding from the residual adrenaline, she answered the call. “... Seto…?” Her voice was throaty from sleep.

“Shit,” he hissed. “Did I wake you?”

She rolled onto her back, a sleepy “mmhm” her only reply. 

“I forgot about the fucking time difference,” he grumbled. “I’ll talk to you later. Go back to sleep.”

“No,” she replied. “No. I wanna talk to you. You’re about to get ready to go to the office anyway, right?”

“... Yes.” 

“You’re cute,” she murmured. 

“I thought you would be in the hospital still.” His tone was decidedly apologetic.

“Baby, it’s fine. You’re the best wake-up call, anyway,” she cooed. “Grandpa is staying with Yugi tonight.”

“Hn.”

She giggled. Maybe it was sadistic of her, but Embarrassed Seto was one of her favorite Setos. She snuggled into the pillows, phone still pressed to her ear. “I wish you were here. Beds are so much colder when you’re not in them.” The statement ended with a wistful, drowsy huff of breath. “How have you been sleeping?” The man was a forced insomniac if she didn’t lure him to bed. Which she never minded doing. She was just looking out for his health. And maybe because she preferred him in bed with her than her be in bed without him. 

“Laughably,” he grumbled. 

She hummed, shifted her feet to a cooler sector of the sheets. “I guess that’s to be expected, when I’m not there to tire you out,” she said, voice still languid but smooth with sensuality.

“No fucking kidding,” he scoffed. “I feel like my body thinks that it can’t sleep until I’ve orgasmed, now.”

She purred, low in her throat. “Seto, have you been touching yourself before bed?”

His sharp intake of breath make her chuckle, smooth and sultry. 

“Hmm? Have you?” Her pulse thrummed all the way to her toes, and suddenly, all of the sleepiness plaguing her eyes was no where to be found. “_ Desperate _ to sleep, driven to having your hand down your pants?”

Suddenly, that snarl, right in her ear. “Yes. I have. And I thought about you the entire fucking time.”

Her next breath was shaky, and she licked her dry bottom lip. It was getting warm, under the blankets with her body heat shooting up at his tone alone. “Mm. And what were we doing in all your dirty little fantasies?”

“_ Everything _,” he hissed. “I thought about that time in my car. All cramped and tight and hot and so fucking good. I can’t even sit in the driver’s seat of that vehicle without getting horny now.”

She whimpered, at his words, at the memory of the feel of his slacks on her inner thighs and the sound of his palm slamming into glass. “That was so good,” she whispered back. “I think about it, too.”

“When you touch yourself?” he asked, rough and breathless.

“Yes,” she moaned back. 

“What else?” his breath was but a cloud of static in the receiver. Atem yearned to feel it on her ear, against her skin, hot and damp. “What else do you think about?”

She rolled onto her back again and shoved the blankets off. “I think about the whole stay at the cabin. I was so fucked out. I felt so good the whole time.” Her breath shuddered. “You practically lived inside me for those few days. It was wonderful.”

A grunt, of the sexual variety that had Atem’s toes curling and her hips bucking up. “I don’t even know how many times I made you come.”

“It was so many,” she whimpered. “I loved every minute of it.”

“I did, too.” A frustrated groan. “I wish you were here right now.”

“God, yes,” she breathed. “You fuck like an animal, Seto. I want you like that, right now. Pulling my hair and biting me. Deep and fast and hard.”

“Yeah, you like it just like that,” he growled. “You like it when I rough you up, consume you.”

“Uh-huh.” the moan echoed in the empty house. She clawed the hem of her baggy shirt up. “I’m going to touch myself, Seto,” she whispered. 

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed. “Give me a minute.” 

As she pressed her fingers to her damp panties, she listened to the shuffling of fabric on the other end. “Are you getting naked?” she asked, airy and almost mewling. 

“Yes.”

“_ Mm _,” she whimpered. “I’m putting you on speaker, baby.”

He grunted, preoccupied with disrobing, and Atem set her phone to the side, right next to her head on her pillow. 

“What are you wearing?” he rasped.

“A long shirt and panties. Admittedly not the sexiest thing.”

“Nonsense,” he barked, ragged, and she _ knew _ he was already working himself over. “Anything and everything is sexy on you. You could be wearing a fucking chicken suit and I’d still want you.”

“Noted,” she breathed, chuckling just a little, right as her fingers dipped beneath the material of her underwear.

“Touch yourself for me,” he growled. “Since I’m not there to do it. Do it for me, Atem.”

“Yeah,” she mewled. 

“I love touching you. You’re so damn responsive.”

“_ Seto _ \--”

“Like that,” he gritted out. “Making you feel so good.”

“Y-You always do.” Her voice was so wrecked already. “Always. I… I…” she threw her head back, lost herself in the pleasure a moment, brow furrowing and thighs jumping as she slipped her fingers over that one spot that made her feel like she was about to lose control of all of her limbs. His rough, pleading voice called her back, and she licked her lips. “I’ve never faked it, never for you.”

A rumbling growl sent a shiver down her spine and made her hips buck off the bed. “Was it a habit for you, to fake it for previous men?” he snapped, all sorts of riled up and the concoction was clearing making him that much more feral.

“They weren’t enough,” she mewled. “They couldn’t… they couldn’t…” she panted desperately, groped herself through her shirt and imagined his big hands and slender fingers. 

“What? What couldn’t they do?” He was breathing fast and harsh, and it was almost enough to envision him there, on top of her, pressing between her thighs.

“They couldn’t t-turn me on,” she cried. “Not--” -- her own gasping mewl cut her off -- “-- not like I needed it.”

“Oh?” he snarled. “They couldn’t _ excite _ you?”

“N-No.”

“Fucking hell,” he snapped. “And now you can’t go any extended period of time without my hands on you.” 

“You ruined sex,” she whimpered. “Totally _ ruined _ it.”

“Good,” low and growling. “Now you’ll always come back to me when you need it. When you need it fast and hard and deep, when you need to fuck like the animal you are.”

She was touching herself in all the right places, and that voice was saying all the right things, and suddenly she was practically_ wailing _ and bucking like her life depended on it, and she tasted his name on her lips, and she thought for a delirious moment how it was her favorite flavor in all the world.

He hissed and grunted, right there, close to her ear, but not close enough, right there but thousands of miles away.

“Goddamn,” he growled, panting and harsh, and her every breath was a mewl and that was all she could do to respond.

“G-Good?” she huffed, hips still twitching a little as she stroked the last of it out.

“Fucking hell. Yes, good.”

“Mm.” She slumped back to the mattress. “_ Best _ wake-up call.”

“It was honestly not my intention to have phone sex with you at six in the morning,” he groaned.

“Three for me,” she reminded. “But it was worth every second.”

“It was,” he agreed, voice hoarse and soft.

“What was your intention?” she asked, languid and even more exhausted now that the last of her excitement bled from her veins, although the pleasure still hummed through her like music near mute.

“Just to talk. I was sure that if you were still at the hospital, you would be awake and bored out of your mind.”

“You’re so sweet,” she cooed, and he grunted, on the verge of retort, but she plowed on. “Well, I enjoyed your call either way.” She breathed slowly, and adjusted her clothing and pulled the sheet back over her legs. Goosebumps were starting to prickle her skin. “How is your project coming along?”

He grunted, and she heard footsteps and shuffling and then running water. He was cleaning himself up. “A lot faster if people weren’t fucking imbeciles.”

“Mm. Are you falling behind?” she asked, but kept the concern out of her voice. He’d make it to Domino when he’d make it to Domino and there wasn’t much she could do about it.

“No, thank god. I’m managing to get ahead on everything else, so this will probably be the last thing I wrap up before I head back to headquarters.”

She hummed happily. "I'm looking forward to seeing you, Seto."

He only grunted, but it was soft, and she knew he shared the sentiment.

Atem's eyelids were getting heavier and heavier, and she sighed sleepily. "I'm going to go back to sleep. I'll make sure to dream of you."

"You better."

* * *

The week passed far too slowly for Seto's taste. As he had foretold, the new hologram project was what kept him from simply leaving and flying back to Domino.

He wanted to talk to Mokuba in person. He missed Mokuba fiercely, as his brother, as his best friend, and as the closest thing to a father the younger man had ever known. Where Seto's world used to revolve around Mokuba, they now barely had time to spend with one another, and the change was still something that made Seto's heart ache. 

And Atem. Dear god, he fucking missed Atem. 

He'd known his days without Mokuba were empty, but now that he'd gotten used to Atem's company, they felt even emptier. When he woke in the morning and sat at the edge of the bed, a phantom of her would slither from the sheets and wrap around his back. He'd remember her soft, teasing kisses on his shoulder and sigh. Yes, the mornings were the worst, when he'd shower alone and fantasize about her washing his body with meticulous care and he hers. When the feeling of her intently watching him get ready would ghost across his body and make him shiver and dejectedly close the bathroom door. 

The mornings were the worst because he was sure to come home late enough at night that he would crash onto the bed in an exhausted stupor and simply miss the heat of her sleeping next to him, instead of pining over her at a lonely dinner or sitting by himself in the living room. 

But of course, he couldn't seem to fall asleep without a _ helping hand _, which was twice as annoying as it was amusing. 

Sometimes, she would call him in the morning, when all was quiet in nighttime Domino City, and whisper to him her day and sometimes coax him into another session of torrid phone sex, where he would hear her muffling her cries into a pillow and breathing his name. 

But mostly they talked and teased and joked as if there weren't two and a half thousand miles between them. And after they hung up, she would go back to sleep and he would trudge through his morning rituals a bit more energetically than on mornings when she didn't call. Either way, calls or no, the little messages would dot his day, springing up and making him grin. Sometimes a picture of her, smiling and bathed in California sun, sometimes with her brother, whose resemblance to her made him reel each time, and sometimes with her grandfather, who made him understand where it all came from.

The Mutos seemed to be an inherently aesthetic family. 

He idly wondered about their parents, something he could probably easily look up, but also something he wanted to hear about from Atem herself. 

And, gods above witness his shame, he took a photo of himself and sent it to her. He was scowling in it, and in his office, but Atem sent a string of heart emojis anyway and _ cuuuuute, Grumpy Seto _. All of which made him blush torridly for the rest of the day. 

It all smoothed the jagged edges of his loneliness, like the persistent waves eroding the jagged edges of a rock, but still, the week could not end soon enough, that final project could not be completed _ soon enough _.

But it ended, and with nothing less than a jovial pep in his step, he left the New York KaibaCorp branch for the last time for the next half a year or so. 

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” he grumbled under his breath when he saw Ariadne or Arianna or whatever the fuck her name was waving at him on his way out. “Definitely fired, or else she might jump Mokuba’s bones.” Mokuba couldn’t brush people off quite as well as he big brother could. The vulture in heels would sense the weakness and swoop down on the opportunity. Poor kid would have a complete and utter emotional breakdown. He had a hard time denying people. Seto chuckled and shook his head, and headed straight to the airport. Earlier that day, he had already packed all of their things, and Roland had immediately trucked them off to put them on the private jet. 

As he slid into the limo, he turned his wrist to look at his watch. Just over seven hours and he would be in Domino.

* * *

The Muto household was abuzz. Atem from general excitement to see her lover, and her brother and grandfather in a frantic mood of _ Atem’s having a boyfriend over for the first time in the history of ever. _

She rolled her eyes at them, though she would occasionally drum her fingers nervously or bounce her foot. Sometimes, Seto Kaiba was luke-warm at best, and she hoped dearly that he was going to feel on the friendly side of his rather cantankerous personality.

Cantankerous. Down-right crotchety. Though these qualities were never directed at her in seriousness, and, if in seriousness, never in their full scope. Which seemed limitless, she recalled from business phone calls where the man had devolved to snapping and growling -- and not out of sexual arousal, but out of genuine rage. 

So it was with bated breath that she awaited his call that he’d landed in Domino. Of course, he would be stopping at headquarters first to visit his little brother and take him out to a late lunch. They’d last seen each other in person well over a month ago, and Atem had no intention of infringing on cherished sibling time.

With that thought in mind, she sighed and put her phone to the side. 

Yugi giggled at her. “Impatient to see your sugar daddy?”

She frowned at him, but did her fair share of chuckling. Yugi wasn’t wrong. Yes, she was impatient, and yes, Seto Kaiba was technically her sugar daddy.

He looked back down to the game board and at his hand, then back to the game board. “I’m putting down a road,” he said, and handed Sugoroku, the designated banker for this particular round of Catan, the cards required. “Well, I hope you have no more doubts about his feelings now. I doubt Seto Kaiba invites just any woman to live with him.”

Atem only hummed and narrowed her eyes at Yugi as his road got dangerously close to the current termination of her own. “Oh, no you don’t, Yugi,” she hissed under her breath as he passed the dice. She rolled them, and fortunately was able to draw the resources necessary to build her own road. “That’ll show you.” She lazily held out a hand to her grandfather. “I do believe that I have earned the Longest Road points.”

Sugoroku made a show of counting her little road markers. He pushed up his reading glasses. “It seems as though you have.”

“I do believe that I earned the Longest Road points,” Yugi mocked with exaggerated mouth movements and a ridiculously high voice. 

Atem arched an eyebrow at him. “Just for that, I play one of my Knight cards and move the robber onto…” she picked up the little figurine and placed it onto a plot that only Yugi’s settlements were touching. “... this space.” She crooked a finger at her little brother. “Let me at that hand of yours, Aibou.”

He fanned his cards out, and she picked one from the middle. 

“And I’m done with my turn,” she chirped, smiling that innocent-yet-chillingly-wolfish smile at her brother. She handed the dice to Grandpa.

“Ah, sibling rivalry. Maybe while the two of you are distracted, I can seize my victory,” he tutted, rolling the dice. Everyone drew resources. “As for the boyfriend thing, I must agree with Yugi. This boy obviously enjoys your company if he wants you to live with him.”

Atem huffed and arched an eyebrow. “You say ‘boy’ as if he weren’t an extremely successful adult.”

“Anyone more than twenty years younger than me is a ‘boy,’” he muttered playfully, exchanging cards for a road, a settlement, and a Development Card. 

Yugi rolled his eyes. “You keep avoiding the main issue.”

Atem furrowed her brows and crossed her arms. “Excuse me? When did this game of Catan turn into a family therapy session? Because I really didn’t get the memo.”

Yugi raised his hands up like she were a wild animal about to attack. “Hey, we’re just thinking about your emotional health. Just give the guy the benefit of the doubt. He seems like he’s head-over-heels for you, and that the only one in denial about his feelings is you.”

Atem breathed out deeply. “I know, I know. It’s just hard to break old habits,” she said, rubbing her brow. “Can we just get back to the game, please? I love that you guys are so invested in my happiness, but I just want to have fun playing a boardgame with you.”

Understanding nods, and the game continued.

In the end, Grandpa really did come through with a dark horse victory. 

Atem had been so close, too.

* * *

KaibaCorp Tower in Domino City had never looked so damn beautiful before.

As much as he loathed to admit it, no place quite felt like home, except for Domino City. 

_ “My family is a nervous wreck. They are determined to get you to like them. Either way, have fun with Mokuba. I know you miss him. But don’t have too much fun. I still want you to have energy for later…” _ and the sly smirk in her voice was audible and it appeared behind his eyelids in a perfect mirage before they opened again.

With a deep breath, he tempered his arousal and his urge to find Atem and give her a good hard fuck _ immediately _. 

Mokuba first. Lunch with Mokuba, and then he could find that feisty vixen and attempt to quell her libido (and, honestly, his own). 

Within the towering stack of steel and concrete and glass, everything seemed to be going as usual. Workers darted about like determined bees, visitors dawdled about and stared at the architecture all around them. Seto strode amongst them, and greeted the receptionists with but a tilt of the chin. The doors to the private elevator were opening before he was even a yard away from them.

Ah, the smell of competent employees. Refreshing.

It took but five minutes for him to finally stride through Mokuba’s door and into his office. 

That long, black, wild hair gleamed in the sunlight pouring from the window. “Seto!” Mokuba called, a wide grin splitting his face, and he was unfolding his long frame from his seat and rushing forward to give his big brother a strong hug. Mokuba had always been behind the curve in terms of height all throughout childhood, but in the past few years, he sprung up with something akin to vengeance. He was nearly as tall as Seto now.

“I missed you,” Mokuba sighed, squeezing Seto tight. He must have been working out more, too, because it felt like Seto’s internal organs were about to get pressed out of his orifices. 

“Mokuba,” he wheezed, and Mokuba released him with an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Warn me the next time you decide to try to squeeze my innards out like I’m a fucking tube of toothpaste,” he grumbled, palming what he was sure were bruised ribs. Mokuba laughed, tossing his head back. Seto’s smile made his cheeks ache. “C’mon, kid, let’s get something to eat.”

* * *

Mokuba’s lavender eyes blinked widely, and he pushed his plate (now empty of clam linguine) to the side. “You… you want her to move in with us…?” He shook his head, long hair swaying this way and that. “I’m…” he laughed incredulously. “I’m really surprised. I know you said she’s been going with you everywhere you go but… I mean… You’ve never, _ ever _ invited one of your…” He paused, and Seto knew he was refraining from using the word ‘girlfriends.’ “... lovers to live at the manor.” He chuckled, and took a slow drink of his water. “She must be something else.”

Seto’s lips twitched, but, for once, he couldn’t quite find the right words. “She’s... Unique. That much is certain.”

“I can’t wait to meet her.” A teasing glint gleamed in his pale eyes. “I mean, what kind of woman gets Seto Kaiba wrapped around her little finger like this? I’m very curious.”

Seto scoffed, but he offered no dispute to the claims. Mokuba wasn’t wrong. He was totally enthralled by everything Atem was and did, and there wasn’t much that he wouldn’t do for her if she so much as hinted at wanting something. He took a deep breath and met Mokuba’s gaze firmly. “I intend to marry her.” _ If she’s willing. _

Mokuba almost spit out his current sip of water, but he slapped a napkin over his mouth just in time. His eyes were very nearly the size of the plates the waitress just swept away. 

“Holy fuck,” he muttered, but it was badly garbled by the serviette still held to his face. With a delicate wiping motion, he moved the cloth. “_ Marry _her? Who are you and what did you do to my big brother?”

Seto chuckled, almost shyly. “True, I had never considered it favorably before. Marriage, that is. I’ve always thought it was silly, a waste of time. Where would I find a woman who I would dare to dream to spend the rest of my life with?” he said, and, in all honesty, his tone was almost mocking. “It’d probably end in divorce, anyway. So utterly pointless.” He shook his head. “But this woman… Atem. I want her. As my wife. I want to be her husband.”

And that way she couldn’t leave without a fight. He wouldn’t openly admit to it, but her two-month disappearing act gave him something of an abandonment complex. Though she showed no sign of even _ thinking _ about doing that again. 

Mokuba nodded, though he didn’t seem any less stunned. “Are you sure? I mean, what if she’s just in it for the money?”

Seto laughed. “Oh, we’ve already been through that. Don’t worry.” She could worm her way into any rich man’s heart, but she decided to stay at Seto’s side. That spoke volumes that he could never properly explain to Mokuba.

Mokuba frowned, curious, but didn’t question the statement. Instead, he traced his finger tips on the condensation on his glass. “Seto…”

“Hn?”

And those eyes, the eyes of what was a boy but now a man, cut up to him with a strange soft intensity. “Do you love this woman?”

Seto breathed the words out, and the sound alone felt like it shattered something in him. “I do. I love her."

* * *

They were elbows-deep into a game of Takenoko when they heard a knock on the door. Atem jolted, startled, and looked up to the clock, then to her phone. She had several unread messages from Seto, but she ignored them in favor of beating her zealous family members to the door. She slid to a stop, and Yugi crashed into her from behind. Collectively, they slammed into the door.

“Yugi!” she hissed. 

He just stuck his tongue out, and she pushed his face away with a fierce scowl and barely managed to draw her hand away before he could lick her palm.

“You can be such a child,” she growled. 

“Whatever. You know you love me. Oof--!”

Her elbow in his ribs (though gentle, considering his healing wound) convinced him to reel back and give her enough space to open the door. 

And in a red button-up and black jeans, there was none other than Seto Kaiba. Atem grinned broadly, and immediately stepped close, her hands settling on his shoulders to tug him down for a chaste kiss. He hummed. His big, slender hand cupped her cheek and then stroked through her hair, and they were disengaging. 

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Hello,” he said lowly back. “Based on the sounds I was hearing, I thought a herd of elephants was going to greet me.”

“That was Yugi being a nincompoop,” she replied, just loudly enough for Yugi to hear and yowl in protest. Atem rolled her eyes and stepped back, opening the door and gesturing for Seto to come in.

Seto only hummed, but his blue eyes were alight with amusement. 

The house was but a back apartment to an old game shop, but it seemed homey and warm. 

Atem glanced between her lover and her grandfather and her brother. “Seto, this is my younger brother, Yugi, and my grandfather, Sugoroku.” Seto stepped forward, confident and bold, and offered his hand. Atem arched an eyebrow. Seto didn’t let just _ anybody _ shake his hand. But Yugi accepted it with a face-splitting grin and a firm grip. Sugoroku was more sanguine, and he gave the young man towering over him a measured gaze. 

“I’m pleased to meet you,” he said, picture-perfect polite, and it felt like Atem’s eyebrows were going to climb right off her face.

When doing business, there were only a few reasons why Seto became the epitome of the grateful guest -- when he felt he was at the disadvantage, or when he _ desperately _ wanted what he was negotiating for. 

Atem felt her cheeks heat up, and she wondered which it was at that moment in time. 

* * *

Ever the bad socializer, Seto did not talk much during his visit to the Muto household. He did, however, seem to not entirely dislike her family, which was a relief. When he and Atem shared a glance and quietly decided it was time to go, she gave both of them a kiss on the cheek and a hug. 

“I’ll be back to inconvenience you again sometime soon,” she promised, to which Grandpa only laughed and touched her cheek fondly.

Seto must’ve sent a quick text to his driver some time ago, because the limo was pulling up to the curb by the time they stepped out.

“I thought you drove here,” she said quietly.

Seto only grunted. He didn’t. 

They got in, and the divider was already up. She gave Seto a sly glance, but he only settled an arm over her shoulder and tugged her into his side. 

So warm, so damn good smelling. She sighed happily, nuzzled him and took deep, delighted lungfuls of his spicy, masculine scent. She nestled closer, and his palm stroked down her spine in slow, deliberate motions.

Touch-starved, the both of them. 

“I missed you,” she breathed against his neck, and puckered her lips against his skin. He held her closer, closer, ever closer, and she smoothed her palm up and down his abdomen and chest. 

He grunted quietly.

“You’re so warm,” and her fingers ducked between the buttons of his shirt to stroke the skin underneath. “You smell so good,” she nearly whimpered. God, the week apart was really starting to catch up to her. She licked, kittenish, at the tendons on his neck. Sitting next to him on the couch without being able to touch him like this was nearly torture. She could almost _ hear _ his teeth gritting, and then his palm was sliding over the curve of her ass and _ squeezing _. She mewled, her fingers curling into his shirt, lips parting against the flesh of his throat. 

“Atem,” he said, low and rough, when she slid a leg over his and straddled him. 

“Touch me more,” she whimpered.

He was eager to comply, his long, slender fingers curling around the backs of her thighs and teasing the hem of her skirt. She leaned close, their noses brushing, and teased his lips with her own. “Seto…” she mouthed against him. He tugged her, and they were pressing together everywhere that they could.

The heat, the contact, was making Seto pant. “Atem, you drive me insane.”

“I want you,” she moaned, pressing down, feeling him beneath her, feeling that he _ wanted _her, too.

“Yeah?” He was bucking up, meeting her motion for motion, as his hands slid up, under her skirt, to palm her ass. “You and these damn skirts…”

“I always make sure to wear one when I know we’ll be spending time together,” she said on a breathy giggle.

“Naughty,” he growled, and tugged at the waistband of her panties.

“Yeah,” she whispered, and her hand was reaching between them to pluck at the button on his pants and pull the zipper down. “I am. Do something about it.” And she was tugging him from his boxers, and he was setting his teeth to her jaw. 

He yanked her down, butted against her panties, and she mewled, gripping his shirt again. She was scrambling to pull her panties aside, and with bucking hips and a mewling gasp, they were conjoined. 

“Oh _ god _ ,” she gasped, head tipped back, and his lips and his teeth and his tongue were on her throat. He yanked her down, short and tight, and her mouth dropped open, her fingers flexing against his chest. “ _ Seto _.”

They set a rhythm, slow and hungry, careful of the moving vehicle they were in, nuzzling each other’s necks and faces. Sweet and hot, warm molasses, and Atem twined her arms around his neck to cling closer. Those half-lidded vivid blue eyes were locked onto her face, not moving with each indulgent plunge.

“You like that, baby?” he asked, low and growling, when his hips swiveled just right and she nearly melted into a puddle right on his lap.

“_ Yes _,” she mewled, matching his motions and hearing his breath stutter in his lungs. 

“You’re amazing,” he croaked, tugging and helping her, all for her pleasure. “Fucking _ hell _.”

His teeth and tongue teased her lips, and her fingers wound themselves tightly in his dampening hair. On a rather tight turn, the centripetal force pushed her further onto him, and they both moaned. Then he was whirling, gently laying her on the seat, her hands returning to his shoulders, and he pinned her to the buttery leather cushions with his hips. 

Slow and deep, all the way in and all the way out on long, thorough strokes, and Atem could feel it building in her, felt her thighs shake even as they tugged at his hips. He was just barely holding himself above her, otherwise they were completely pressed together, and she was loving every second of it. Her toes were curling in her sandals, her breath getting faster and hotter, and her airy mewls in his ear seemed only to be spurring him on. In this position, pinned so thoroughly, she could hardly buck back and reciprocate, but she did her damndest, bucking and tugging and _ clenching _ on each steady reentry.

He moaned, low and broken in her ear, and she thought about Washington rain and conifers and a cabin in the mountains.

He was losing his grip, losing his control, his thrusts gaining a rough edge, the plunge growing faster but the outward stroke struggling to remain steady. 

“C-Close?”

“Yes, yes, _ yes _,” she cried, tugging him down for a hot, breathy kiss. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, and she watched him fight to keep his eyes on her face. Even as his spine tightened and the pleasure threatened to swallow him whole. "C’mon, Atem. _ C’mon _. Come for me.”

With a mewl and a writhing, delighted body, she could only obey. He fluttered, and then slow and deep, his groans low and deep and soft and _ vulnerable _ and it made her shatter further beneath him. He bucked into her a last few times, milking her pleasure and his own, wringing every last drop out. 

He slumped against her, still careful of his weight, but she tugged him down, let him rest himself on her. She twisted and strained for a kiss, a slow, languid meeting of lips. “Mmmmm, Seto.”

With a reluctant groan, he pulled out and grabbed some napkins from a nearby cupholder. He was kneeling, towering over her, and she watched, eyes still swimming with tears of pleasure, a sanguine smile on her swollen lips. They’d made a bit of a mess on the front of his jeans, but he swiped up what he could and let the hem of his shirt cover the rest. 

“I missed you, too,” he finally replied, cupping her cheek and tenderly stroking with his thumb, and then he was leaning down for a kiss.

Her fingers curled into his shirt again, and when he went to rise up again, she tugged him back down.

Her mouth was dry, and her eyes darted across his face, but the words on the tip of her tongue wouldn’t let themselves be imprisoned any longer.

“Seto, I love you.”

He was silent a moment, and her heart froze in her chest, but then she noticed the glittering _ warmth _ in those cold blue eyes, the little wrinkles forming around them as his lips quirked into a small but breathtaking smile.

“You better.” and he leaned down again, pressed his lips to her forehead. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY. WHAT THE HELL. 14,900 WORDS LATER AND THIS STORY STILL ISN’T DONE…?  
So, this was a lot different than the previous two parts, but I really wanted to show how their relationship had evolved into something more than a hot fling and sexual obsessions. I went also like 8,972 words without explicit sexy content in this chapter, and that’s a record for this story.  
This is now apparently a full-fledged multi-chapter story but okay whatever. So much for writing one-shots.  
I’ll guess I’ll see you next time.


	4. Can You Give It All To Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by [ KISS. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=12fJAnaif34)

"Mokuba, this is Atem Muto," Seto said, his hand on her waist. 

Mokuba had just gotten home, and Seto and Atem had just freshened themselves up after several rigorous rounds of reunion sex -- they did, after all, have a whole week to catch up on. 

But the smile Atem flashed was entirely innocent as she extended a delicate hand.

“Hello. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” she greeted amicably when Mokuba took her hand in his for a firm shake.

He smiled down at her. “And I you. I couldn’t possibly imagine the type of woman that would conquer Seto so easily.”

Atem laughed and arched an eyebrow. “You say ‘conquer’ as if he weren’t wholly willing the entire time.” 

“Not a bit of resistance?” Mokuba asked, mischievous, teasing. He was a man, but she could see the remnants of an impish teen in him. 

Her smirk widened, and she looked up to Seto. His blue eyes were seemingly impassive, but she could see the hot spark flaring to life in them. “Not the slightest,” she cooed, leaning in, her cheek on his chest. She blinked up at him, batted her eyelashes in that mockingly innocent manner. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

His eyes narrowed, but she watched the corner of his lips tick up the smallest amount. He said nothing in reply, but the way his hand tenderly brushed through her hair and down her spine was answer enough. She smiled up at him, her eyes tracing his face, and then she suddenly remembered that they weren’t alone. 

She straightened, but Seto slung his arm around her to keep her close. They simultaneously turned their heads to look at Mokuba. 

He had a mile-wide grin on his face, his pearlescent teeth gleaming exuberantly. 

“Well, let’s get dinner, shall we?”

* * *

Mokuba couldn’t help but stare at the couple.

Atem would occasionally lean close to Seto, rest her weight a moment against his side as they ate. But, most surprising of all, Seto would pressed back, just slightly, just enough that Mokuba could see. At one point, Atem sat, fork perched in her slender fingers, and stared intently at Seto’s plate. When Seto paused in his eating to reply to Mokuba, her hand darted forward, and she, with honestly remarkable precision, speared a piece of food on Seto’s plate and quickly plucked it off and devoured it. 

Seto paused mid-sentence, and turned to her with parted lips, his brows furrowed.

Atem simply smiled smugly and raised her shoulders and chewed impishly her stolen food all the while. 

Mokuba froze and watched the interaction with baited breath.

Seto’s growl was audible, but he simply picked up his utensils. Mokuba thought that he would just ignore what had happened and go back to eating, but…

Seto leaned close, crowding Atem’s personal space -- not that she seemed to mind -- and, with a sneer, stabbed his fork into some of her food and ate it. He chewed aggressively all while glaring right into Atem’s sparkling eyes. 

Torn between gaping or laughing, Mokuba simply shook his head at the pair. 

They finished dinner -- their plates whisked away by staff -- and they relocated to one of the lounges. 

Seto sat on one of the love seats, his arm draped on the back, and Atem took it as an open invitation to sit next to him and snuggle up close and cozy.

She nuzzled close, and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his chin. It may have seemed like Seto was ignoring her, but Mokuba saw the gentle pink flush dusting Seto’s cheeks and the merry upward tilt to his lips. 

He was baffled. 

Yes, Seto had said that he loved this woman -- that he wanted to  _ marry her  _ \-- but --

\-- this behavior, even to Mokuba, was so  _ foreign _ .

He’d  _ never _ seen Seto act like this. 

He was torn between feeling amused, fond, or alarmed. 

He cleared his throat, and once again captured the pair’s attention. Atem was rather blank, but Seto was blushing furiously.

_ Seto knew, too _ , which was relieving.

“So, Atem, what do you do?” he asked, taking a sip of his wine. She’d talked all about her family at dinner (except her mother, who was scarcely mentioned) -- and recounted several hilarious tales of her younger brother’s antics -- but she’d seemingly skirted around the topic of her career.

And when both Atem  _ and  _ Seto froze, Mokuba felt his eyes widen a little bit. Okay, so it was apparently a sensitive subject.

Atem recovered first, and she smiled. “I’m an artist.”

“Oh really?” Mokuba tried to withhold his surprise. Seto had, often times, been one of many to criticize people who tried to live off of art alone. “What kind of art do you do?”

She worried her lower lip between her teeth for a moment. “Well, mostly… nature. Animals. Plants. People. Those sorts of things.”

Mokuba had his eyes on where he was setting his wine glass, so he didn’t see the quizzical, puzzled look Seto gave Atem, or her tense smile and the way she mouthed ‘later.’ 

“I helped my little brother design several of the board games he’s invented,” she added. 

“Interesting,” Mokuba said, genuinely. “I’m surprised Seto hasn’t tried to rope you into working at KaibaCorp yet.”

“Oh, that wouldn’t work out,” she said with a laugh. “He already tells me I’m too much of a distraction. He’d  _ never _ get any work done if he so much as  _ knew _ I was in the same building as he,” she snickered.

Seto pinched her waist, and she squirmed against him. “Simply untrue. I can compartmentalize very well.”

“That’s what you say,” she responded with an arched brow. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but held it in. 

Seto narrowed his eyes at her, and Mokuba chuckled behind a hand. 

He liked this woman.

* * *

“An artist?” Seto asked, watching her from where he had just closed his -- _ their --  _ bedroom door. 

She looked at him over her shoulder, and then lowered her gaze. “... Yes.”

“And why did I hear nothing of this?” he growled. “Or were you just dodging questions?”

He saw her gulp, and she walked over to where one of her bags was still sitting on the floor. 

He approached, watched her back as she lifted the bag up, set it on the dresser, and opened it. She took out a notebook and turned to hand it to him.

He accepted it, his brows furrowed. Not a notebook. A sketchbook. He flipped open the cover. 

Immediately, he was met with a drawing in colored pencil. It was brilliant, glossy, life-like, an octopus coiled amongst smooth rocks and green marine plants. He touched it. The surface of the paper was silky from the colored pencil, but his brain reeled in shock. Her drawing was so realistic, his brain had almost been expecting to touch a real octopus. In the lower corner, in white, she had initialed it.  _ A.M. _

Dazed, he flipped the page. A goliath grouper, mottled and monstrous, hovering at the glass of an aquarium, a small child with her hand pressed to the acrylic. 

He flipped the page. 

A cluster of seahorses, their tails wrapped tightly about a plant. 

He flipped the page. 

Colorful cichlids splashed across the page in a swarm of colors.

He flipped the page. 

A whale shark, mammoth and magnificent.

He narrowed his eyes.

These were… from the Georgia Aquarium, from when they had been in Atlanta about a month and a half ago. She’d gone on her own while he had several meetings with local businessmen. She’d do that often -- visit local zoos and museums and parks, and Seto had found himself fond of her evermore for it, but he hadn’t the faintest clue what exactly she did while she was out. 

He continued flipping. Sure enough, animals from zoos, skeletons and artifacts from museums, plants and trees and statues from parks. He could name most of the locations. It was a chronological diary of all the places she had visited while traveling with him.

“These are spectacular,” he said quietly. He’d never seen color pencil used like this. Truly, each image looked more like a photograph than a drawing. He glanced back up at her.

Her bronzed cheeks were tinted a deep red, and her vivid eyes were lowered to stare at his feet.

She was… embarrassed.

He reluctantly closed the sketchbook and set it to the side. He lifted a hand to stroke a blonde bang from her face. Sure enough, her cheek was hot to the touch. He chuckled at her. 

“You willingly tell me that you stripped to get through college, but you’re embarrassed about some drawings in a sketchbook?” he murmured, tracing his thumb along her lower lip, and she finally lifted her eyes to his. “Strange woman,” he breathed, leaning closer to press a kiss to her lips.

She lifted her shoulders. “It’s just…” She sighed tightly. “Not a practical skill that you would admire.”

“Atem, when you’re  _ that _ skilled, it definitely becomes practical,” he said back. “That’s… I’ve never seen drawings so good.” He cupped her face gently, and mouthed at her lips again, softly, fluttering. She melted in his arms, and he purred his chuckle. “That can’t be the only book. That’s only from Atlanta onward,” he murmured, wholly curious. 

“It’s not,” she sighed, eagerly nuzzling up into his kisses. Her hands were curling tightly into the shoulders of his shirt. She was sidling closer, her warm body pressed to his front.

His noise of satisfaction rumbled low in his throat. Atem tasted like wine and desire. He eagerly deepened the embrace, and she whimpered against his lips. “I want to see them all,” he said between hungry kisses. 

“A-After…” she mewled, breathy.

“Yes, after,” he groaned, hands slipping below her thighs to pick her up and drag her against him. “Goddamn, Atem,” he hissed after she arched into him and put pressure on all the right places. 

“More,” she whispered brokenly, hips rolling eagerly. 

“Let me -- shit, let me --” They fumbled and pawed clothes out of the way, and then the bed creaked beneath their combined weight and her hands fisted in his clothes and the rumpled blanket. “Goddamn,” he moaned into her neck.

Soft huffing breaths and muffled moans filled the bedroom. Apparently, they still hadn’t made up for that week.

* * *

Atem, clad only in his button-down shirt, set her chin on his shoulder as he flipped through another of her sketchbooks. This one was mostly graphite, all grays and warm off-white paper and smooth, gentle shading gradients. A couple of pages were filled with doodles and thumbnails, but Seto perused them with all the intrigue as he did the full-page works. A couple he paused for several minutes to admire.

And some made them both blush a little.

“Drawing pictures of me without my knowing… how cliche, Atem,” he muttered. Most of them were drawings of him at rest, either sleeping or sitting at his desk. He wondered how many times she had been drawing him and he was too engrossed in his work to notice. 

Her lips puckered against his shoulder. “I don’t quite do you justice,” she murmured, lips moving on his flesh.

He hummed. “I don’t know. These are… very good,” he said quietly.

He stopped at particular drawing where he was laying on his stomach, arms crossed under his cheek. The way she shaded the structure of his back (even the faint line of scratches from her nails), the folds on the sheets, the way his hair -- disheveled from what he could only guess had been sex -- fell about his face. He looked almost… angelic. Beautiful. 

“Some of these I didn’t draw directly from what I saw,” she murmured, reaching around to lightly trace a finger on the cheek of the Seto in the drawing. “I… took pictures for the ones I really wanted to work on so that I could have a solid reference. That way… if you moved… I could keep drawing.”

“Creepy,” he snorted teasingly, and Atem just chuckled into his shoulder. 

He flipped, and paused again, heat searing through his cheeks stronger than ever. 

It was a drawing of two hands entwined. One large and pale, the other small and dark. They were pressed to rumpled cloth. The tendons and knuckles were tensed in harsh relief. They were gripping each other tightly.

“That one… is my favorite,” she whispered, and he could feel the heat of her cheek against his neck. 

He gulped.

It was a simple, innocuous image. Certainly contained the least nudity… but… everything about it conveyed hot passion and tender desire and… so many things.

“I…” he paused a moment to take in take in the details again. “I think it’s mine, too.”

Her hand slithered to his free one, and he willingly tangled their fingers together. He lifted them to press his lips to the back of her hand. Her cheek was laid on the top of his shoulder, her head tilted towards his, and he leaned in to kiss her chastely. She hummed. He leaned his forehead against hers.

* * *

For once, Atem awoke before Seto. She sighed sleepily against his skin where she was tucked into his chest. Warm and comfy…

She missed waking up like this. 

With that thought in mind, she puckered her lips against his sternum and petted him where her hand was resting on his ribs. He was still deeply asleep, his breaths slow and even. She giggled, and pressed a line of chaste kisses up his chest and to his neck. She pecked at dark red and purple hickies. They were just below the line where the collar of his shirts would cover them. 

Going over wasn't too much of a problem -- Seto had plenty of turtle-neck style shirts to wear. 

With a mischievous grin, she leaned to the side and mouthed at the broad swell of his shoulder muscles. He sighed in his sleep, and she flicked her tongue a moment against his flesh. He really did have nice trapezius muscles…

And then she bit down.

He yelped, hands instinctively shoving her away. 

She giggled and rolled with the motion. The sheets tangled around her like a soft tortilla. 

His hand was covering where she had just chomped into him, and his blue eyes were dark with sleep and irritation. “What the fuck?!” He hissed.

“I didn’t bite you that hard,” she giggled, face half-buried in the bedding.

“I don’t care. I was sleeping,” he growled, rolling away from her. She snickered and crawled closer. “Why do you have so much energy in the morning?”

She said nothing, only set her chin on his arm. Her smirk grew wider when he stiffened, but she only nuzzled him and chastely kissed his tricep. She peregrinated up, lips mouthing gently, over his shoulder, along the back of his neck and to his ear. She gently teethed the cartilage, and felt him melt back against her. She swiped the lobe with her tongue and then chuckled, breathy. He shuddered beneath her.

“Do you want coffee?” she asked, drawing back and sitting up. 

He only grunted.

“Grumpy Seto. I’ll take that as a yes,” she replied, untangling herself from the sheets and standing, legs wobbling a little, at the side of the bed.

“I’m only grumpy because  _ someone _ decided that sinking her teeth into me was a suitable wake-up call.”

“I wonder who that was? Whoever she is, she sounds like a real bitch,” Atem said with a husky laugh. She swiped Seto’s shirt off the floor and dug a pair of sweatpants out of one of her bags. “I should really unpack today,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “Since  _ someone _ distracted me all of yesterday.”

Seto’s response was only a growling grumble, his back still turned. 

She laughed again, quiet and gentle. 

“You’re a pain in the neck. Literally,” he mumbled as she padded up to the door. 

“Mmmm, maybe.” Now clothed, she opened the door. “If you’re not down in the kitchen by the time I’m done, I’ll bring your coffee up to you.”

He only grunted, softer this time, his own personal way of saying ‘thank you.’

She quietly closed the door behind her and ambled down the hallway. This place was labyrinthian in size and nature, but, she remembered well enough from Seto’s half-tour the day prior. (Half-tour because they proved to be too much of a distraction to one another, but Atem still knew where the basics were. That was good enough for now.)

It wasn’t long before she was in the kitchen. She bit back her surprise when she saw that a pot of coffee was already done. Then she remembered that Mokuba was staying here, too. 

She frowned curiously and looked about the kitchen. Had Mokuba already left for work?

He wasn’t anywhere visible, so Atem shrugged and continued on with preparing two cups of coffee. She snorted when she finally found the cupboard with the mugs in it. One was themed after a dragon from a popular card game (one that she and Yugi actually adored), and she already knew whose it was. 

Seto liked his coffee black but with a little bit of sugar, and Atem dashed a little bit of creamer into her own. Slogging her way through college had taught her the value of strong, bitter coffee, but she still liked just a little bit of creaminess.

She was stirring Seto’s drink when she heard footsteps. She threw a glance over her shoulder. 

Mokuba was in a suit. Though his color palette was no where near similar to Seto’s, she saw the resemblance in the set of his shoulders and the line of his nose and the shape of his lips. He wasn’t even half as stern-looking as Seto, but Mokuba still had what Atem could only call ‘that Kaiba confidence.’ She chuckled to herself.

“Good morning, Atem,” Mokuba greeted.

“Good morning, Mokuba. On your way out?” she asked, bright and amicable, while she set her spoon to the side.

“Yeah. Soon, at least. I’m surprised Seto isn’t up yet,” he commented offhandedly.

_ Well, I did tire him out rather thoroughly last night, _ she thought with a private smirk. “He’s awake. Grumpy, but awake.”

“Now, that just sounds like everyday behavior for him,” Mokuba snorted, picking a thermos off the counter. 

“I leave you two alone and you start talking shit about me. Great,” Seto grumbled, stalking into the kitchen. He was only wearing a pair of silk pajama pants and a robe.

The robe was probably for covering up any marks in case Mokuba was still there when he got up. 

Bites and scratches and hickies -- marks galore. What else was Atem supposed to do? All of his previous marks had long faded, so she needed to get some fresh ones on his delicious pale skin. And so she had done. Vigorously. Enthusiastically.

She smirked to herself and hid it behind the rim of her mug. 

Seto narrowed his blue eyes at her as he snatched his own mug off the counter. “What the fuck are you smirking at? You can hide your mouth, but you can’t hide your eyes from me, Atem.”

She only arched an eyebrow and took a sip of her coffee. Ah yes, coffee, the nectar of the gods. The feeling of the hot drink going down her throat to curl in her body had to be savored a moment before she responded. 

“I wasn’t smirking at anything in particular,” she lied. 

Seto snorted at her. “Liar.”

“Mmhm,” she hummed. 

He turned away from her in favor of his coffee and his younger brother. “I’m surprised you haven’t left yet, Mokuba,” Seto commented, rather conversationally.

Mokuba shrugged. “I thought I would sleep in. I don’t have any meetings until later, and I’m already ahead on paperwork.”

Seto grunted, an unspoken  _ atta boy _ . 

“Are you going to take any time off before you start traveling?” Atem asked, stepping forward to stand next to Seto by the island. She leaned her elbows on the counter and took another sip of her drink.

“I probably should, shouldn’t I?” Mokuba said, chuckling a little and rubbing the back of his neck.

Atem nodded resolutely. “Everyone needs a break every once and a while. Especially people who work as hard as the two of you do.”

Perhaps having forgiven her for her perceived slights against him, Seto rubbed his big palm up and down her back gently. “Atem’s right. Take next week off. I can handle everything at HQ.”

Atem hummed happily at the attention, but she only took another sip of her coffee. 

“Oh, okay. I mean, are you sure?”

Seto raised a shoulder. “I planned on working, anyway. But we’ve pretty much got the transitioning perfected after the number of times we’ve done it.”

“Wow, what a polite way to tell me I’m useless,” Mokuba said with a hearty laugh.

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it,” Seto grumbled, though he had a humorous tilt to his lips. 

“He’s totally telling you that you’re useless,” Atem cut in. The yelp that tore from her when he pinched her waist echoed in the kitchen.

“Behave,” Seto growled. 

She scowled at him as she rubbed the now-tender spot on her side. “I’m always on my best behavior. And you’re lucky that my coffee is almost gone or it would have gotten everywhere.”

“I would’ve made you clean it up,” he snorted. 

They both looked up when Mokuba laughed boisterously. 

“You two are just… too much,” he guffawed, shaking his head. “This has been fun, but I really should get going. I’ll see you later.”

“Have a good day, Mokuba!” Atem called softly.

“Call if you need anything,” Seto added.

“Thanks!”

When Mokuba’s sounds completely faded, Seto leveled Atem with a stern glare. The blue of his eyes was dark as a storm, and a twitch tugged at his lip. “You’re lucky I didn’t want to make a spectacle in front of Mokuba, or I would’ve bent you over and taught you a lesson right there and then.”

Her whimper lodged itself in her throat and she hastily swallowed it down. “Oh damn. Guess I missed out, didn’t I?”

“You insatiable fiend,” he growled. That sneer blossomed as she set her coffee down and sidled to his front to pet the fluffy material of his robe.

She smiled coyly up at him through her lashes. “The first time we fucked was in a kitchen, too. Do you remember, Seto?”

His breath was ragged, his hands fisting and tugging at his shirt on her body. “Of fucking course I remember.”

The chiseled planes of his face were already flushed with arousal, but after one final stroke on the plush fabric of his robe, she moved to spin away. His fingers were caught in the material of the shirt she was wearing, and it took the barest twitch of his arms to drag her back against him. Pressed against her back, his hands clutching tight. 

God, what a feeling…

“I’m hungry, Seto,” she whispered. “I want food. Breakfast.” Though she still tilted her head to the side for him to teeth gently at her neck. “We burned a lot of energy last night.”

“We can ask the kitchen staff to make breakfast while we occupy ourselves with… other things,” he said against her skin. His breath was hot and damp and utterly titillating. 

So,  _ so _ tempting, but… “No.” 

“Tease,” he growled, releasing her. 

“I really want to eat and brush my teeth,” she said. “And a bath sounds amazing. Then I need to unpack,” she continued as she ambled to the refrigerator to see what they had by way of ingredients. Seto only grunted in response, and she peeked over her shoulder to see him with his hand pressed to his forehead. He was taking deep breaths and struggling to regain his composure. 

She bit her lip. The fridge door shut with a soft thud.

“Oh, fuck it,” she whispered. She marched up to him and tugged him down for a kiss. She snagged his lip between her teeth and growled. “Are you going to fuck me here where anyone can walk in and see, or are we going to go back to the bedroom?”

“That depends…” he hissed, yanking her up to sit on the counter. “... on whether or not you’re feeling adventurous today.”

“I’m  _ always _ feeling adventurous,” she gasped as his hand ducked under the edge of the shirt she was wearing to grope up her body.

She felt his smirk against her lips. “Good.”

* * *

Seto occasionally glanced up as he worked at the desk in the bedroom. Atem was naked as the day she was born -- she didn’t bother dressing after their shower. Which was all well and good with him. He’d cleared space for her in the dressers and the massive walk-in closet, and she was ambling about, filling it at her own languid pace. A few dresses here, some socks in that drawer, a pair of shoes or two on the shelves…

Seto didn’t feel his lips twitch into a small smile, and he continued with his current task of rifling through his email. 

Her gentle humming floated on the air, unfurled about the room like wisps of smoke. It was warm and oddly soothing. It, along with the soft noises of her padding around and opening drawers and unzipping bags, made a harmonious accompaniment to the rapid clicking of keys. 

There was the crinkling of plastic, and then her half of the sonata went silent. It was a few seconds before Seto noticed, and he looked up. 

She was standing at the foot of the bed. That beautiful, shimmering red ball gown was held aloft before her in its garment bag. Her head was tilted just so, and she seemed to be staring at it. Seto wished he was in a position to see the expression on her face.

She must have sensed his stare, because she looked over her shoulder. Her wild hair brushed her cheeks. “I’m still amazed you kept this…”

Seto didn’t say anything, only leaned his cheek against his knuckles and blinked at her. 

It’d been months, but he supposed there was some things that he was stuck on about the whole ordeal, too. 

“I honestly wasn’t sure if you would still want me…” she murmured, and then she shook her head and turned to deposit the dress on a rack in the closet. 

Seto hummed, nudged his laptop away. When she walked back out, she met his gaze, and the pair was still. 

“Why were you doing what you did?” Seto finally asked. “You’re very intelligent. Very talented. You hardly kept any of the money for yourself…” He trailed off, but he kept his eyes firmly on hers. 

She took a deep breath, her chest expanding. Her lip twitched, and she padded back to her suitcase. 

“It’s… a long story, I guess,” she murmured. 

Seto closed the laptop and turned to face her more completely. “I’ve got the time… if you do.”

She sighed, and settled on the edge of the bed. Her fingers traced over the luscious comforter. "It's… well…" she rubbed her arm self-consciously. "It's a little silly, now that I think about it…"

"I… doubt that," Seto replied, soft.

"It's…" she sighed again, chewed on her lip. "... Justice. Revenge, I guess." She lifted a shoulder. "For… what people have been through. What  _ I've  _ been through." He watched her gulp. "People… humans… so many of us tread on whoever we can to get what we want." She met his eyes, and though her gaze was steady, there was a deep intensity there that locked Seto in, like it had the first time he saw her. "I know I have. And… there are others that do it only for pleasure and spite."

Seto nodded slowly. "I think it's something we are all guilty of. It's… a facet of human nature."

"But some people take it too far. Some people are simply despicable," she said, lip curling. "And this propensity for abuse increases the more power one has to abuse."

"I'm guessing by 'power,' you mean money, in this case."

"Well, of course. Money makes the world go round in this capitalist society of ours…" 

"I agree, though," Seto added, and he leaned back in his chair. "I've seen money ruin many men."

Those sharp crimson eyes cut up to him through those beautiful thick lashes. "And you weren't."

For a moment, Seto thought the statement sarcastic, simply because of Atem's phrasing, but she was steadfast, genuine. 

"I know I'm more demanding… ruthless than most…" Seto admitted.

She smiled. "You are prideful." A chuckle. "Arrogant. But you have a kind and tender heart." She snorted, and Seto couldn't help but chortle himself. "Though you  _ pretend  _ to wrap it in razor wire."

" _ Pretend?" _ he had to scoff.

Wry and smug, she leaned back on her palms on the bed and tilted her head to meet his gaze again. "You let me in from that very first night," she breathed. "You can't say you didn't. I see the way you act with other people."

Seto swallowed down his protest. Instead, he thought back to that first night, that heady, overwhelming magnetic attraction. Of course he'd treated her differently. She was… his equal, right from the very beginning. 

"You were even more guarded than I was," he said, and though it wasn't the first time he thought it, it was his first time saying it aloud. "But it was different for you, too."

"It was," she murmured. "I saw the way you looked at me. Not like some object, though there was desire in your eyes. Not… not like…" she trailed off, took a deep breath, and began a different thought. "You looked like you wanted to pick me apart to learn all the pieces inside and out. And I  _ wanted  _ it. So bad." Her next words were quieter, tender, like the soft glow of her ruby eyes. "I still do." She looked like she was about to waver, but their eyes remained locked. "But it's so hard to let someone in like that."

Seto stood, and he moved closer to the bed. He watched her body language closely as he sat on the edge of the mattress. But she remained relaxed, languid. 

"I know," he murmured, leaning close to tenderly cup her cheek. "But you did. You still are." He smiled softly. "We're both trying." He stroked a thumb over her cheekbone. "I know so much." How she liked her coffee, the tone of her voice when she was suppressing a giggle, the warmth in her eyes when she looked at him. "But you're right. I want to know more," he said, and the raw quality that deepened his voice surprised even himself. "Let me know more. I want to know it all."

Her lips trembled, tears pooled in her eyes. "Insatiable," she breathed.

"You know it," he whispered back, and on her airy chuckle he felt her hot breath on his lips and realized how close he was leaning. They were both moving, her arching up and him swooping down. He'd memorized the shape, texture, and give of her lips, but each time was invigorating, and though it was familiar it had the excitement of being so new.

"Seto," she whimpered, her fingers curling into his shirt, her body arching up into him. 

He groaned. "If you hadn't drained me dry already, I'd make sweet love to you until you bawled like a baby," he muttered against her lips.

She laughed wetly. "I cry almost every time we have sex. It wouldn't be much of a change."

"It almost alarmed me the first time, I admit. But when you were crying for more instead of to stop… well…" he rolled a shoulder and grinned smugly.

She blushed, pouting. "Well, you can hardly blame me. The intensity of my orgasms made me doubt if I'd ever even really had one before."

"I don't know if that means I am that good or other men are that pitifully bad," Seto laughed.

"Both," Atem answered immediately, as if she had thought long and hard about it for some time. "You're a very attentive lover, something I fear my previous tastes in men lacked. And there's…" she looked down to where her hand was absentmindedly rubbing his chest. "... a certain chemistry between us." She tilted her head to mouth sensually at his neck. "No man's aroused me like you do."

Seto purred, eyes falling shut as she kissed up and down his throat and neck, across tendons and veins. "I can say the same of you. The things I've done to you… with you -- I've never even dreamed of doing with other women." He chuckled. "You've turned me into a deviant."

"Like you didn't do the same to me," she hissed, but he could feel the smirk pressed to his shoulder. "Do you remember, in Las Vegas when we first met, when you took me out to buy me clothes?" she asked, her lips now pressed to his chin. She was now practically in his lap.

He hummed. Of course he remembered.

"Well, I had a thought, unbidden, of you coming into that fitting room and fucking me against the wall," she admitted, and her hot breath and lewd words made him shiver. She laughed. "I was so horrified of myself, of my thoughts, of what you were doing to me without even trying. Public sex, what was I  _ thinking _ ?"

He laughed, too, brushed their noses together tenderly. "Well, I can't imagine what you were thinking when we…  _ utilized _ that supply closet in Seattle."

She chuckled, low and sultry. "I thought about how fun it is to be bad with you." 

His fingertips brushed up her spine -- skimming, sensual, loving -- and he cupped the back of her neck, fingers tangled gently on the dark hair on her nape. His lips grazed hers as he talked. "I thought about how I would never be able to deny you anything," he whispered. "Whatever you want, whenever you want it."

Her eyes, half-lidded yet so full of wonder, peered unerringly into his. Her hands, so small and warm and elegant, came to rest on his cheeks. Her index fingers settled on his cheekbones, her thumbs just barely touching his lips, palms cupping the flesh of his cheeks. He felt the soft smile on her lips and saw it in her crystalline eyes. 

"Good thing I want just you, then," she murmured back, the jewels of her irises hidden momentarily of the fan of her thick black lashes. 

Something thick lodged in his throat, so Seto simply pressed their foreheads together and breathed in her warmth.

Later on, he'd realize they didn't actually talk much about her past and her motives, but he found himself not minding. 

He would learn everything there is and ever will be to know about Atem Muto.

* * *

Atem chuckled into her champagne flute. Her arm was wrapped delicately around Seto’s, and she occasionally leaned in to press her cheek to his shoulder. He would hum each time. 

The air was alight with the din of conversation and light string music.

“It’s too bad. You just can’t seem to stay away from parties like these,” she murmured, and took a minute to admire the red stain she had left behind on the rim of her glass. 

“An unfortunate necessity,” Seto replied, monotonous, but she could still hear the resignation and disdain in his voice. 

She giggled. “You are just  _ dripping _ with enthusiasm.”

“It’s because I’m just so  _ excited _ ,” he hissed back and nudged her with his shoulder.

“Understandably,” she murmured, lifting her champagne back to her lips. “You certainly are the center of attention.” She tipped her head to the crowd.

Indeed, slanted glances were shot their way, There was never a time they went unobserved.

No,” Seto drawled, leaning down into her ear. “ _ You _ are the center of attention.”

She turned her head, and their noses brushed together, and she pointedly stared at his lips -- so shapely and tempting -- before she lifted her gaze to his. Those blue eyes were hot and intense. Her own went half-lidded in response. “Surely, you’re mistaken.”

He chuckled, a low, purring, arrogant "hmph," and she saw how his eyes smiled though his lips stayed in their characteristic near-frown. "I'm not."

She arched a brow and turned away to delicately sip her drink. "Pray-tell your reasoning?"

"Well," he began, dropping his arm from between hers and looping it instead around her back to settle on her waist. "First, you look absolutely gorgeous." He kneaded the fleshy spot between her hip and her ribs. "You carry yourself like a damn queen. It's enthralling." His mouth was close to her ear again, and she felt his hot breath and his lips moving. "And… I haven't brought a date to one of these in a very long time. The Domino City elite have yet to see us together until now."

"I doubt there's much to see about us together," she said lowly, though she knew it to be otherwise. With their raw chemistry, she  _ knew  _ others could see it. 

He only chuckled, and it tickled her ear and tingled her nerves. She felt him draw away, but the phantom of his breath burned her skin where it had touched. 

"So, you  _ are  _ the center of attention after all," she added. “They wouldn’t be staring at me if it weren’t for you.”

“No, I’m sure they would still be,” he replied. “I know people stared at you long before you and I were together.”

“How do you know that?” she asked wryly, an eyebrow arching.

“Because  _ I  _ stared at you.”

“You say that like you don’t still,” she quipped. 

“Mm, you make a fair point.”

“Well, since everyone is so bewildered, I’m surprised none have approached us yet.” They’d been approached before, at other parties in other cities.

“Most of them know better,” Seto grumbled. “I am well-known but not quite well-liked here.”

“Surprise, surprise. Honestly, I am stunned. Your expressions are normally  _ so _ approachable.” She hid her snicker behind her glass.

He chortled behind her, but it was cut off with a sharp,  _ “Goddamnit, Atem.” _

“What?”

“You jinxed us.”

She followed his gaze.

A man was ambling closer to them. His long black hair gleamed, glossy, in the warm lighting, and his vivid green eyes were focused on them.

“Who is it?” she whispered.

His response was a low growl, “Duke Devlin.”

Duke Devlin was lean, and tall, but he was no where near the height of Seto towering behind her. Despite his devilish good looks, he seemed younger, perhaps Yugi’s age, she guessed.

“Kaiba,” he greeted with a charming smile, though it was a little strained at the edges.

Seto only grunted in response. 

“Still sour, I see. Well, aren’t you at least going to introduce me to your companion?” he asked, smooth, green eyes meeting Atem’s own. His smile became more genuine, and far more suave. Atem giggled.

Did he think that would work?

“I’m Duke Devlin. And you are…?” He extended a hand for a shake. 

She met it. His palms were warm, but his fingers were too small. “Atem Muto.”

“Muto?” his eyes blinked comically wide, and Atem drew her hand away in his distraction. “Are you related to Yugi Muto by any chance?”

Atem felt her own eyes widen. "Yes, actually. He's my younger brother."

Duke laughed, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "Well, I'll be damned. It's a small world, after all. I went to high school with Yugi."

Atem smiled. She'd never met many of his classmates, save for the ones he was still acquainted to and the ones he would bring home for board game nights. Well, the ones that Atem was around to attend, anyway. 

"I don't know how he managed to keep such a beauty of a sister a secret, though," he added with sly green eyes.

Seto tensed beside her, and she all but  _ heard _ the possessive growl that was beginning to rumble in his chest. She pressed her cheek to his shoulder and kneaded her fingers were they were resting on his arm. He relaxed.

"Well, for most of Yugi's high school career, I was in college," she replied. The whole last three years he was in high school, actually. So, three-fourths of it.

"Mm, can't say I mind an older woman," Duke purred.

"Why don't you fuck off, Devlin?" Seto hissed.

Duke ignored him, and kept his eyes locked with Atem. "Though I also can't say why you would settle for someone who's such a sourpuss. Surely you have more hospitable options…?"

Seto parted his lips to snap again, but Atem spoke first.

"This option," she accentuated the words by sliding her hand down and entwining her fingers with Seto's, "is the best and only that I'll ever pick." She tilted her head against his shoulder and smiled tenderly up into blazing blue eyes. "Though I'm sure he could find better if he tried."

Seto's face softened, his thumb drawing gently over her knuckles. "What nonsense are you going on about, Atem?"

She blinked, watched how that cold glacier blue melted into a warm tropical ocean, and breathed, “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve had too much champagne.”

“Hn,” he grunted, but he bent low to give her a chaste kiss. “You’re the only woman I’ll ever want,” he said lowly, almost like a growl if it weren’t so soft, and then he was standing straight again.

A throat cleared, and they were both looking to Duke Devlin, who had the sense to look uncomfortable and a little apologetic. “It seems like I’m intruding.”

“What made you think that?” Seto hissed with no small amount of sarcasm. 

Duke once again ignored him. “Well, it was nice to be of your acquaintance, Atem. I hope we run into each other again under better circumstances.”

Atem only managed a slight nod, and Duke was turning on his heel and walking off. 

“I hate that man,” Seto grumbled.

Atem laughed, whole-heartedly. “Really? I couldn’t tell. What ever did he do to you?”

“I just don’t like him. He’s… smarmy.  _ Skeevy _ . Perverse. Pretty sure he has an STD.”

But she laughed harder. “Perverse? We aren’t the most innocent ourselves. Need I mention  _ any _ of our own exploits?”

“It’s different,” Seto insisted.

“How?” she asked, breathless, swiping away a tear.

“It just is!” he muttered.

“Wow, A-plus explanation. That’s some quality material right there.”

“Don’t patronize me, Atem,” he snarled, rather playfully, Atem thought. “You’ll pay for it.”

“I’m sure what you have in mind is totally innocent and in no way sexual or perverse,” Atem quipped. 

He growled hotly, and she laughed, tilting her head to rest on him again. He was staring down at her, and she beamed back. 

“I’m glad you find this all so amusing,” he snorted.

Her smile settled into something tender again. “I love you, Seto,” she said, almost a whisper. 

Those blue eyes narrowed, but they were molten and loving. The pads of his fingertips ghosted across her face in a caress. “I love you, too.” His gaze remained locked with hers, but he jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Atem laughed.

* * *

“Thank you for the wonderful meal, Mokuba,” Atem said sincerely as she set her napkin to the side. “You didn’t have to use your time off to make dinner for us,” she added.

“I know,” Mokuba replied, and he lifted a shoulder. “Cooking is my secret passion, so I don’t mind at all.” He cut Seto a sly glance over the table. “Anyways, I was hoping to use food to bribe you to stay with my grouchy, unpleasant older brother.”

“I will fucking throw my silverware at you, Mokuba, don’t you fucking doubt me,” Seto hissed, pointing at Mokuba with his fork.

Atem giggled. “I don’t need to be bribed, and I find Seto’s company to be quite pleasant.”

Mokuba shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt that he’s a completely different person around you.”

“I doubt that,” Atem replied, right when Seto snorted hotly.

He opened his mouth to reply when his phone rang. It was a shrill, generic ringtone. Atem pouted.

He did a double-take at the caller ID.

“Who is it?” Mokuba asked.

“It’s Roland,” Seto replied before he immediately answered. Roland was head of security at both KaibaCorp and the Kaiba manor.

And he only called if it was something very important.

“Roland,” Seto said by way of greeting, and it was only a couple of seconds before he was casting Atem a peculiar glance. “I understand. I will inform her.” He lowered his phone but did not hang up. His brows were furrowed slightly over his blue eyes when he met her gaze. “There is a woman at the front gates”

Atem frowned.

“She’s claiming to be your mother.”

* * *

The blood drained visibly from her face. 

Seto’s lips parted, but he could only watch as suddenly all that color suddenly came rushing back, and then those crimson eyes were burning, Atem’s nose was wrinkled in a snarl, and she was  _ incensed _ . 

“What?” she drawled, fingers suddenly clawlike on the mahogany tabletop. 

He held the phone out to her, and she glared at it so intensely that if he didn’t know any better, Seto might have thought that it would explode in his grasp. Then she plucked it up from him, her jaws set so ferociously that he feared she’d snapped the joints. 

“My mother?” she asked stonily when she lifted the phone to her ear.

She was seething into the distance, and she grunted an affirmative, and then she was standing suddenly, tension wrought about her shoulders. “I’ll be right there. Thank you.” And she hung up and practically tossed Seto back his phone.

“It’s really her?” Seto asked, frowning, a little shell-shocked. He’d had his fair share of lunatics harass his front gates, but this seemed so far out of that realm. 

He didn’t know much about Atem’s mother, but he knew that they hadn’t been in contact for years.

“Yes,” Atem barked, and he was stunned -- and a bit perversely delighted -- to realize that he’d never seen her so  _ furious _ . 

Enraged, she burned with a heat and intensity to rival the sun. And like all aspects of Atem Muto, Seto Kaiba found it thoroughly titillating. 

He didn’t hide his smirk, but Atem seemed to be too preoccupied to comment on it. “One of you should come with me, because I cannot guarantee her safety if I snap and I’m there alone.”

The thought of wrestling a spitting, clawing Atem was actually… pretty damn  _ hot _ . But Seto pushed away his arousal. Atem needed support right now. 

So he folded stood and pushed his chair in. "Dinner was good, Mokuba," he said, and ruffled his little brother's jet black hair as he passed.

* * *

Atem's blood pounded in her ears in a hot rush. The colors in her vision swam, and her breaths felt like lava pouring forth from her tight lungs. Seto was at her shoulder, calm, and it anchored her, but liquid fury coursed through her veins mercilessly.

_ What  _ did that bitch want?

With how quickly she was storming to the doors, it wasn't long before they reached the double doors at the front of the manor.

Seto's hand rested, hot but comforting, on her shoulder. "If you lose your temper, she wins," he said lowly, his breath fanning on her ear.

She took a deep breath, and that molten rage cooled into solid steel. "You're right."

"Hn," he grunted, but the pad of his thumb brushed her shoulder in two tender swipes before he retreated.

She squared her stance and set a hand on the doorknob. "Let's get this done and over with."

* * *

She strode, elegant and regal down the driveway. She was electric, composed but feral, and Seto could only compare her to a lioness. He wondered what kind of woman her mother was to instill such an attitude. (And it made him secretly glad he'd never been on the receiving end of her fury, no matter how arousing he found it.)

Surely enough, at the front gates was a sleek black car. It was of expensive make and model, and Seto felt his eyebrows inch up.

On the wrought iron of the gate, a smaller, person-sized gate was concealed in the design, and Atem easily unlatched it and stepped onto the mouth of the driveway. 

One of car's back windows rolled down. A bronzed face and red eyes stared out. 

This woman was  _ definitely  _ Atem's mother. 

"Aren't you going to let me in, dear?"

Atem's eyes narrowed dangerously. Their eyes may have been of a similar color, but that fire was all Atem. "No."

The woman didn't seem shocked, but her well-groomed eyebrows ticked. "You'd treat your own mother this way?"

"I haven't talked to you in four years, and I haven't seen you in person longer still. No one here owes you the courtesy of inviting you in just because you show up, unannounced at that. It's actually quite rude."

“Oh? Does Seto Kaiba share this sentiment?” the woman asked, and her calculating gaze cut over to him.

Seto snorted. “If she had asked my opinion, I would’ve told her to tell my gate man to turn you away, and not even bother coming out here.”

Her aghast shock seemed no where near genuine. “My oh my, how blunt.”

“Enough of this. Why are you here, Tena?” Atem asked, sharp.

“Is it so wrong of me to want to see my daughter?”

“How did you even know I was here? It’s not like you asked Yugi or Grandpa,” Atem hissed.

“Some people from our crowd saw you at that party earlier in the week, and others say you’ve been with Kaiba here for several months. I could only guess that you were living with him, what with how often you have been seen together with him,” she supplied with a smug grin. “Like mother like daughter. We really do have similar tastes in men, it appears.”

Atem lunged forward, fingers talonlike on the sill of the car window, and Tena reeled back. 

“Seto is nothing like  _ him! _ ”

But she recovered quickly. “And what makes you think that?”

Atem grinned, feral, blazing. “Well, for one, I don’t have to worry about him spending more time in other women’s beds than with me. I doubt you’ve seen fidelity in a man since my father.”

Tena gaped, this time in genuine offense. 

“Your current husband seems awfully prone to falling dick-first into other women, doesn’t he?” Atem’s smirk was nearly a snarl. “And I doubt you’re the most faithful wife.” Her head tilted condescendingly. “So, no, mother is  _ not _ like daughter.” 

“You  _ dare _ speak to me in that manner?” Tena spat.

“Leave. You are not welcome here,” was Atem’s only response before she was whirling away. 

Seto leaned to the gate man, who was watching the interaction owlishly. “If this woman remains, call the police for trespassing. Immediately turn her away if she ever returns.”

The gate man nodded, and Seto strode away to follow Atem. She was already halfway up the driveway. His long legs made it easy to catch up to her, and then they were in the foyer.

“I want to fucking throw something,” Atem growled, clawing through her hair.

He breathed hotly, pressing close to her back. “You’re a goddamn vision when you’re pissed,” he groaned.

She laughed harshly. “You don’t want to fuck me right now. I’ll claw you to ribbons.”

Heat punched through his gut. “Sounds like a good time to me.”

“You freak.”

He lightly, tentatively touched her jaw. “I can’t seem to fault myself for wanting everything you can give me.”

“Everything?” she breathed, leaning into his touch.

“Everything,” he whispered, nuzzling her ear. “I could swear we’ve had a similar conversation not so long ago.” She was melting, relaxing in his arms. Mission accomplished.

“We have,” she admitted. 

He kissed her neck. “Let’s go eat dessert. Mokuba made strawberry shortcake.”

She hummed, but when he moved around her to pull her back to the dining room, her soft smile made his heart stutter in his chest.

What a marvel.

* * *

“So what’s the deal with your mom?” Mokuba asked as they settled down to dig into dessert.

Atem froze, hand tensed around her fork. “We… don’t get along.”

“I’ll say,” Seto chortled, though his lips were a little tight as he shot a glare towards Mokuba.

Mokuba shrugged. “Shit happens, I guess. I mean, I don’t really remember our mom. She and our dad were already dead before I could really recall childhood memories.”

Atem felt her shoulders drop. She knew of their parents’ demise, but Seto rarely discussed it. “My father passed away when I was in my first year of college.” Seto’s hand touched her free one, briefly, and she smiled softly at him for the sentiment. “Bronchial adenoma.”

Mokuba winced. “Cancer, oof.”

Atem chuckled. “‘Oof’ is accurate, I suppose. Though it’s hard to say whether or not it was the cancer or the treatment that killed him.”

“That’s horrible. At least our parents died swift deaths.” At Atem’s questioning gaze, Mokuba clarified, “Car accident. Though it didn’t seem like an accident.”

Seto grunted. “It wasn’t. Someone tampered with the vehicle.”

“So they were murdered.” Atem’s voice was so quiet, she was surprised she could hear herself.

“... Yes.”

“Do you know who did it?”

“I suspect extended family members, but there is no solid evidence.”

“Despicable,” Atem hissed. “Why would someone do such a thing?”

“Why else but money,” Seto growled.

“Our parents were pretty well off,” Mokuba went on to explain. “They had a large life insurance policy on them, and a lot of assets and money put away. Money  _ we _ were supposed to inherit.”

Seto snorted. “But when our parents died, our aunt and uncle took us in. They managed to swipe the money, and they dumped us off at the nearest orphanage as soon as they were done.”

Atem could fill in the rest. She knew about Seto’s rise to power through his usurpation of Gozaburo’s name and company (That much he was more than willing to divulge. It was a point of pride to him), though he was tight-lipped about what living with a tyrant like Gozaburo was really like. Though Atem didn’t have to work hard to imagine it. But she still frowned hard. “I don’t understand how people can treat their own flesh and blood like this. Especially when you were just  _ children _ , for fuck’s sake. What happened to them?”

“They got what was coming to them,” Seto replied cryptically.

Atem nodded, nerves chilled, but she felt vindicated. She wasn’t sure what Seto’s words entailed, but she believed the bastards deserved every bit of it. And she found it hard to judge, anyway, when she was no stranger to revenge-served-cold herself. 

Mokuba pressed his lips together, his eyes focused on his dessert. He didn’t seem to agree with the outcome, but there wasn’t much he could say about it now. 

Atem pushed a strawberry around on her plate.

“My mother is like that,” she said quietly. “Manipulative and cunning. Though I can’t say that she ever murdered someone. Although, in an indirect way, I guess she tried.”

Both Kaibas immediately lifted their gazes to her.

“It’s a long story, if you actually want to understand it all. The short story, though, is that when my father needed money for his treatment, she did everything she could to inconvenience him. Like she  _ wanted _ him to stay sick. Like she wanted him to die.”

“Jesus Christ, she did this to her  _ husband? _ ” Mokuba exclaimed.

Atem shook her head. “No, ex-husband. They had been divorced for quite a while at that time. She was remarried, actually, by this point. She’d married a wealthy man. It would’ve been pocket change to them to help with his treatment. I  _ begged _ her to help with his treatment. He was the father of her children. You think she would at least do it for our sake.” Her lips thinned into a bitter frown. “But I guess she resented him that much.” She chuckled mirthlessly. “I mean, she even despises Yugi because of how much he resembles him. She didn’t even fight for custody of him.”

“But she did for you?” Seto asked quietly, and she met his gaze. She could see his mind working behind the blue windows of his eyes. He was already putting it all together, she could tell.

“Yes,” Atem replied quietly. “And she won.”

Mokuba frowned. “But the stories from the other night… you’d gotten back to living with Yugi, your father, and your grandpa, didn’t you?”

Atem lifted a shoulder. “I managed to get back to them. But that’s a story for another time.”

Mokuba hummed, obviously still curious but knowing that the subject was closed for the time being. “Guess you sure did go through a lot, then,” he commented quietly instead.

Atem tilted her head to the side. “We all did. But it made us the people we are now, and it all brought us here together tonight.” She smiled. “I think it all turned out rather well.”

* * *

She’d seemed better by the time they retired to their room for the night, but when he kissed her and stripped her down, she all but clawed his clothes off. 

He grunted when she harshly shoved him onto the bed and pounced onto him, and growled when she’d tugged his hair to the point of delectable pain.

“You fucking asked for this,” she snarled and bit his lip hard enough for it to leave a mark. 

“Yes,” he hissed back, but he was whirling and pinning her to the mattress. She surged up, a roiling wave and bit down his neck with intent to bruise. He pressed a hand to her throat and pushed her harder into the mattress, and she ferociously tore at his back with her nails in retaliation. 

His face twisted into a rictus of pain, but he was so  _ turned on, _ so ready to fuck his little wildcat into submission.

And he told her so. 

“I dare you to fucking try,” she spat back, arching up against his hold and digging into his flesh viciously. 

Their mouths slotted hot against one another. Their tongues curled together, tasting of strawberry shortcake and blood, and he felt her tongue retreat and her jaw tense in preparation to bite him again. He yanked his head back just in time, and her teeth snapped the barest centimeter away from his lips. Her nails scored along his ribs, and he tightly clenched her tiny wrists in his hands, and, throat freed, she reared up again to scrape her teeth harshly against his jaw. He released her hands and whipped his own down to those perfect hips of hers and tried to whirl her around onto her stomach before she could sink her claws into him again. 

But her small body was deceptively strong, and she resisted the maneuver the entire time, bucking and writhing and growling against him. When he finally had her on her stomach, he was dizzy from arousal and breathlessness, and from the way she was panting under him, he knew she was much the same.

But she wasn’t out of fight just yet. She jolted up, onto her hands and knees, her back jarring into his chest and her head nearly slamming into his jaw if she weren’t so much shorter than he. 

He growled, low in his chest, and reached down to yank her arms out from under her and pin them behind her back with one of his own. 

“You fucking trouble maker,” he snapped. He moved to kneel between her legs, but they snapped shut. All it took was lifting her up slightly and shoving a thigh between hers to knock them open. The mattress creaked when he finally took the position he wanted -- god, his thighs were shaking with anticipation -- and he bumped against her. She was so,  _ so wet. _ “Yeah, you like this, Atem,” he growled as he reached the hand that wasn’t pinning her down to guide himself inside.

They both gasped, and Atem arched, her cheek pressing deeper against the blankets. Seto doubled nearly doubled over, his mouth dropping open, his fingers curling hard on the headboard.

“I’m not going to last long,” he choked out, thrusting hard and fast.

“M-Me either,” Atem mewled, her cheek rubbing against the bedding, up, down, up, down. 

He watched her expression, how her eyebrow furrowed and her mouth dropped open on cries too intense to be sounded. She was tightening up, coiling, her thighs quivering where they were bracketing his own. Her hands clenched and unclenched against her arching back. 

The heat was building up, fit to burst, and he growled in pleasure. “ _ Atem _ ,” he snarled, the hand on the headboard grabbing her thigh and yanking her leg into the position he wanted, the position that made her cry like  _ that _ , and the other released her arms to dart beneath her to rub her where she was wet and hot. She was trying to push herself up, but she was too weak and clawed at the bedding instead. Her body rippled with each thrust, and he watched her lips stretch wide and tremble and she was  _ coming _ . His body burned from her scratches and her bites and the sheer intensity of her, and he rolled his knuckles hard against that one spot that made her thrash as he felt it all spill over and into her. 

She mewled, thighs jumping, when he continued to stroke her languidly as he rode the rest of it out. “ _ Seto _ .”

They both shivered, panting and gasping and moaning, when he pulled out, and when his hands were no longer supporting her, she collapsed onto the mattress completely.

He fell onto his back beside her, and closed his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. 

She rolled, right into his side, and her hand traced the heaving lines of muscle on his stomach. Her lips fluttered over the angry red marks on his ribs. He sucked the air in through his teeth. 

“Let me see your back,” she panted. He rolled onto his side, and she gasped. “Goddamn, I really cut you up this time.” A gentle fingertip traced between the stinging furrows on his back. “Some of them are even bleeding,” she said, steeped with guilt. 

“That’s fucking hot,” Seto said, and he wasn’t lying. The thought of her marking him up like that was so deeply satisfying on a primitive level.

“What if they scar?” she blurted, sitting up to look at his face, her own expression utterly appalled.

“Even better,” he purred.

She gasped again and swatted his arm. “You absolute  _ freak _ ! What if we are at the beach and someone asks, ‘How’d you get those horrible scars?!’ What will you say?! ‘Oh, it was just my wife’...!?”

“You’ll get me hard again if you keep talking like that,” was his knee-jerk response, but then they both froze when what she had just said sank in. Eyes wide, he rolled over to face her. 

She stared at him, trembling hands over her mouth, eyes wide and horrified. 

His heart, once settled down, was now pounding against his ribs again, and he gulped hard.

They could have been staring at each other for seconds, for hours, but it felt like too much and not very long all at the same time. 

He tongue rolled dryly in his mouth, and he parted his lips. “That’s…” A short, tight breath, and her eyes grew even wider. “That’s exactly what I’ll say.”

“What?” she whimpered, muffled by her shaking fingers.

He cleared his throat, and repeated, firmly, “That’s exactly what I’ll say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER…? BECAUSE APPARENTLY I’M WRITING MORE FOR THIS BEAST OF A FIC…?! Ugh you guys are probably irritated as fuck but I can’t seem to leave these two alone. I know I have kept it under the ‘completed’ tag, but that’s because I think it chapter really could be a somewhat suitable endpoint if I suddenly decide I don’t want to continue this any further.
> 
> And I think we can all agree that Seto would either be straight-laced or a kinky motherfucker, no in-between. 
> 
> Also, I had struggled a lot with parts of this. I want so badly to divulge the entirety of Atem’s backstory, but I almost walked face-first into a ridiculously long info-dump and I thought that just wouldn’t be fair to you guys. The whole her-being-an-artist part was one I had always kept in mind since the beginning, but since I wasn't planning on making this as long as it is, I thought better than to employ it. But, here it is. But Atem had to do *something* while Seto was working
> 
> Hey, I also am actively using [ my tumblr account ](https://draconicmaw.tumblr.com/) now and I have no idea what I’m doing so please come bother me thanks 
> 
> Well, those of you that haven’t completely lost interest in this story, I hope to see you next time!


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